


AXOLOTL

by Creslix



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 20 years after finale, Adult Dipper Pines, Adult Mabel Pines, Aged-Up Character(s), Amnesiac Bill Cipher, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Magic, New mysteries in Gravity Falls, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Sequel, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, axolotl, secrets and lies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-12 23:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 96,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7129958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creslix/pseuds/Creslix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty years after their first summer in Gravity Falls, Dipper and Mabel now lead fulfilling adult lives. When they receive a call from Soos and Melody that Gravity Falls is turning topsy turvy, Dipper sets out to investigate. Shortly after arriving, he finds out how bad the problem is when it lands him in the Deep Forest. There he discovers an amnesiac Bill Cipher who asks for his help when the terrified human seems to recognize him. <br/>Can Dipper restore Gravity Falls' normalcy before it tears itself apart and prevent a second Weirdmageddon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It resumes.

AXOLOTL.

MY TIME HAS COME TO BURN.

I INVOKE THE ANCIENT POWER THAT I MAY RETURN.

 

 

“Hey guys! Check this out,” Andrew shouted, pointing at a misshapen stone while waiting for the rest of his gang to catch up. The noon high sun filtered through the pine forest, setting his platinum hair ablaze as bright as his orange shorts.

Evelyn arrived first, her loose Pikachu tank sticking to her reddening skin. The smile didn’t leave her face however. She quirked a brow at the indicated object. “Who’d leave a statue in the woods?” Andrew shrugged as the other two members arrived. “What do you think of the statue Brey?” Evelyn asked when the other teen girl looked up from her brooding romance novel for half a second.

Aubrey glanced at the pointed statue covered in moss and cracks. “Eh, wouldn’t want it in my house. Now, are we gonna see the falls or what Eevee?” She didn’t wait for the other girl to respond as she buried her head back into the book yet miraculously navigated the overgrown path to the second largest Fall in town.

“Uh, guys,” Johnson puffed, hands falling to his knees, sweat dripping from his olive brow, “Can we rest just a moment, please? It’s like ninety-five degrees and this is the hardest trail!” He puffed again before chugging another third of his canteen. “Ugh, my headphones are gonna melt to my neck,” he pulled at the red over-sized pads hanging on his neck.

“Told you not to bring ‘em,” Aubrey shouted from ten feet up the path as she leaned against a large cedar. Johnson grumbled and glared but responded only with another swig.

Evelyn continued studying the half-buried statue, brow creased, while Andrew walked around it. The teen laughed when he reached the other side of the statue.  “Get a load of this! It’s got a huge eye and hat. And look, he’s friendly! Johnson, just look at him. He wants to shake your hand!”

Johnson shook his head, spilling drops of water down his shirt.

“Didn’t Ms. Corduroy mention something about a one-eyed triangle once during survival studies?” Evelyn asked as she wiped sweat from her face and sat down against an old Ash.

Andrew snorted, “I’m not normally paying attention to what she’s saying in class,” he responded with a sly smirk and finger gun. Mutters of ‘gross’ and ‘perv’ came from the other teens. He ignored their remarks and waved Johnson over again.

Johnson shoved his canteen back into his bag, “No way Andy! You promised no pranks or jokes on this hike! You shake its hand.”

“Aw come on, this isn’t a prank! Just a handshake! Johnson! Johnson! Johnson!” The girls picked up the chant in seconds. Aubrey even looked up from her book and Evelyn’s smile grew. Johnson reluctantly walked over to the statue.

The teen boy rubbed at his sweaty neck as he stood in front of the one-eyed statue. He rolled his eyes, trying not to glare at Andrew’s snickering, as he extended his other hand. “Nice to uh meet you Mr. Tophat,” he muttered, attempting to put on a show for his friends.

Birds scattered and gnomes scampered at the shriek that erupted through the forest as soon as the boy’s hand connected with the statue. Three other screams joined as a blinding blue light enveloped a quarter-mile of the forest surrounding the group. An eternity passed in a second as the light faded. Three bodies and a pair red headphones lay motionless on the ground.

A high-pitched cackle echoed through the forest. “Finally!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I've been writing original work for a while, this is my first fanfic I've written, let alone shared. I wanted to have it 100% written before posting so I could keep a regular release schedule (unlike a certain show coughcough), but it seems like the fandom is starting to fade so I'm posting it now and hoping people like it while there are people left to read it. 
> 
> Any thoughts on how to improve the work, send them my way so I can make this story sparkle like I know it can!
> 
> Enjoy!


	2. The Call to Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xander knew what he was getting into when he married into the family. That doesn't stop him from fretting.

Ten minutes. He’d wait another ten minutes before calling again. Thirty-minute intervals were an appropriate length between calls to avoid seeming clingy or paranoid. If he had to call a fourth time however, he’d only wait twenty. Twenty minutes was an appropriate length after a third missed call.

In the meantime, Xander pulled his eyes from the bright pink cat clock on the “Drifting Snow” gray kitchen wall and back to his mess of a child. Little Theodorn sat in his crimson highchair pushing car shaped macaroni and hot dog bits around the tray with his beloved “Forky”. He wore the food more than ate it, with unnatural orange sauce smeared on his face and clothes.

“Alright champ,” Xander stabbed bits of noodle and meat on to his own fork, “One more bite and then we watch Space Cadets, alright?”

Theo stopped spitting all over his dinner with his ‘car’ noises and stared dead at the fork aimed at his mouth. “NO,” he shouted with hands and noodles flying in all directions. A big goofy grin plastered on his chubby cheeks as he repeated his new favorite word that he’d been using to torment his parents and uncle with for the past six weeks.

Xander glanced at the clock again. Once more, he focused on the boy. Nine more minutes. He sighed and pulled his lips into the semblance of a grin. “No? Not even for Mr. Choo-choo?” He started whistling and making classic train chugging noises.

As if the gods themselves decided to smile on the poor man, little Theo giggled. He made grabby hands at the full fork and opened his mouth wide. When the fork was halfway in his mouth, he bit down and grabbed the child-safe utensil. “No!” bits of food fell from his mouth while he waved the fork, sending meat and cheesy noodle cars flying. 

“Whatever,” Xander sighed, “I’ll take it.” He leaned over to grab the prepared wet towels from the “Blue Pearl” Formica counter. He would never forgive his wife for correcting him about the colors until he had them memorized and incapable of simply saying ‘blue’. He should have expected no less when he married a creative soul. Seven more minutes.

Checklists ran through his mind as he methodically cleaned up their dinners. Plates scraped and dumped into sink. _Pick up Kara at seven._ Wipe down highchair and Theo. _Double check the first aid kit._ Place foil over two cold dinners and into fridge. _Ask Susan to watch Theo while I pick up Kara? No, she_ _’s at work._ Channel 83 for Theodorn’s show. _Wait for them to come home_ _… or the phone call from the police…_

Xander shook his head as if to fling the thoughts away while he returned to the kitchen to clean the dishes. The TV chattered and laughed with Theo in the background. Two more minutes. _Nope. Close enough._ He hit speed dial 2 before the thought finished.

He twisted the gold band on his ring finger as it rang four times and went to voicemail. “This is Mabel, it rhymes with label! I’ll call you when I’m able!” He hung up before the beep and tried not to slam the phone down on the counter. He partially succeeded. “Turds. Turdsturdsturds!” His head dropped into his arms as he hunched over the counter. Even as the sink bubbles popped quietly next to him and Theo laughed loudly behind him, the house was too quiet. Too empty. Rockslides, cave-ins, his wife and brother-in-law crushed under jagged rocks or rolling boulders plagued his mind, crushing him with their imagined weight.

His head jerked from his hands at the unmistakable sound of keys twisting a lock. A grunt and shove from the other side forced open the old front door. His cerulean Sketchers squeaked linoleum. He grabbed the trim at the kitchen entrance to keep from plowing into the hallway wall in his haste.

The front door to their eighth floor apartment groaned open. The red setting sun peeking between two neighboring skyscrapers turned the dull yellow door an almost pleasant orange. Honking cars, squawking brakes and shouts of drivers and pedestrians alike drifted through the opening from bustling streets below.  Xander cared more about the stench of Ozone, cinder and dried blood wafting off the two trudging into the apartment. He tried not to glare at the mud they tracked onto the freshly swept pine floor.

His eyes darted back to the first aid kit on the counter as the shorter of the two ambled closer and dramatically collapsed against him. Her once soft, pink sweater felt charred and prickly as his hands automatically wrapped around her while she nuzzled her face against his formerly clean, button down.

The other man, a whole inch taller than him, kicked behind him to shut the door, leaving a mud scuff. The keys jangled roughly as they caught on the high-mounted, pig themed key holder. He tugged the brim of his Star Trek cap lower as he walked past with the briefest wave of acknowledgment. The hall light exposed the welt of a second-degree burn on his unevenly tanned skin.

“Hey Mabes,” Xander sighed and nuzzled her head. She smelled like an exploded gas station, but her embrace was as bone crushing as ever. “I take it things didn’t go as planned?” She grumbled and shook her head. He hummed. _Of course not. But why bother picking the phone up to let me know?_ A clatter against the living room wall stopped his brooding.

“Ow, Theo! Fine, don’t hug me. But you know better than to throw things.” Dipper had a surprisingly good ‘parent tone’ for being a childless bachelor.

“No! Not momma!”

Xander snorted, easily picturing the scene of huffy toddler facing off a scowling uncle. “I’ll grab the Kit, you go protect Dip from Theo.” Mabel whined and clung to his shirt when he tried to pull away. He smirked, tugged her tighter, and kissed her sooty hair. Finally, she released him, gave him a peck on the lips and stumbled into the living room.

As Xander fetched the kit, he heard her squee, “How’s my little Theodorable!?” The child squeed louder if possible upon seeing his mom. Dipper’s groan added the final complement to Xander’s preferred ‘happy home’ soundtrack.

The man paused, soaking up his family and their safety. He hummed and ran a hand through his tussled black hair, snagging a stray car noodle. He instinctively looked over the counter into the living room when Theo shrieked. The knot in his stomach uncurled as Mabel bounced the bubbling boy in her lap.

 _They_ _’re home safe. Stop fretting,_ he commanded himself as he watched the twins. Dipper adjusted his black, rectangular glasses while Mabel fixed her sparkling purple headband. Xander shook his head, smirking. Never again would they pull off the twin switch prank. Not when their torn clothes looked more alike.

Dipper sported short hair, a strong jaw and barrel chest like his grunkles from old photos. Where Dipper was built like a brick, Xander only retained his toned college physic despite occasionally joining their adventures. Mabel had longer, dyed mahogany curls, a soft, always smiling face, and a few extra pounds since Theo joined the family. Xander called them her “mommy pounds” because they hid the fact she was a powerhouse of unstoppable muscle and energy.

Even at two and five respectively, Theo and Kara took after their mother and uncle more than they resembled their father. The Laprise genes were no match for the Pines. Nevertheless, Xander’s black locks and dimples -as well his laugh and green eyes for Kara- broke through. Small victories. 

A different kind of knot twitched in his chest as he watched the twins share a look. They passed a whole conversation between them in a heartbeat before they burst out laughing as if they planned it. _They still have that twin power going for them._ He pounded his chest and coughed as if that was all it was. “Hey, you two want anything to eat or drink while I’m here?” He hoped they didn’t notice the strain in his voice.

Mabel’s face lit up the other side of the room, “Ohmigosh! Now that you mention it, there’s still some Queen Mabel mixed in the freezer. Today calls for a spot o’ that,” she answered with a terrible British accent. _Ah yes. Nothing like Mabel Juice mixed with Crown Royal to end a day._  Xander shivered at the memory of his first and only time trying it. His wife had a stomach of iron not even an iceberg could sink. Dipper was less enthusiastic as he requested his Lion Lager. Theo immediately started demanding juice.  Tonight only, Xander fulfilled that demand to avoid the tantrum.

“So, urns are on the danger list now?” Xander quipped as he entered the “Buttercup” yellow living room carrying four cups, the med kit dangling on his pinkie. His chuckle sounded flat even to him. Thin pressed lips didn’t help as he set the kit and drinks on the child-proof coffee table.

Thankfully, Mabel found something, either his comment or the bouncing boy on her knee, funny enough to laugh. “Yeah. Mc Dippin’Sauce here,” she jerked her head towards her twin slumped next to her on the swirling blue Good Will couch, “owes me a new sweater.”

“You have a million of them,” Dipper grumbled as he grabbed his Lager.

“Not anymore.” Mabel blew a raspberry on Theo’s cheek. He shrieked and flailed. His little pudgy hands settled for fistfuls of singed hair. Mabel didn’t bat an eye. Xander quirked a brow, waiting for the rest of the story while downing his Budlite. _Why does mommy get the strongest drink? Oh right, someone has to pick up Kara soon._

“Anyway, there was no mention of traps, or a security system in the caves,” Dipper swigged his Lager, “I mean… there was little enough about the urn itself beyond location and ‘possibly cursed’”. He picked up the worn, military grade backpack next to his muddy army boots and carefully pulled out a small black notebook and pen along with an dull silver disk. “So imagine our surprise when we’re crawling through a narrow vein and—,”

“Whoop!” Mabel rolled Theo out of her lap. Dipper and Xander dove for him even as she placed the giggling boy back on her lap. “We fell through a fake cover and into a dusty metal cavern!” she wiggled Theo’s arms, ignoring the two men’s heart attacks.  “By the way honey, where’s Kara?”

“I have to pick her up soon from Christine’s,” came the auto reply as his nerves restarted, “So can we get to the part where you promise the government isn’t about to knock down our door again?”

“No, nothing that bad I’m sure,” Dipper cut in, waving both hands and his Lager, “So we land in a large metal cavern covered in unfamiliar symbols. But, we hardly have a second to look around before Plasma guns, that’s right- plasma,” he pointed to his arm welt for emphasis, “started firing at us. Don't worry, they were slow and low on juice. Maybe they were heat or weight activated, possibly bio…?” He started mumbling as he jotted down notes in his black book, glancing at the disk on his knee.

Xander paled. Plasma wasn’t something he thought humans had weaponized yet, least of all set up in a cave outside of Charlotte, North Carolina. Then again, the Chinese weren’t happy when someone decrypted and disseminated their nanotech codes, stripping their 30 years ahead of everyone else advantage. _Thank heavens Dip knows how to cover his tracks. I_ _’ve heard Chinese prison is awful._ He suppressed a shiver.

“Luckily we were in some kinda control room. We hid behind the control panels while I expertly figured out how to put the system to sleep!” Mabel boasted, bringing Xander back to the story and a loud NO from Theo when she booped the boy’s nose.

Dipper scoffed without looking from his notes. “She was probably one more failed attempt away from triggering self-destruct.”

“Don’t hate,” she stuck her tongue out at him before winking at her husband, “He’s just mad cuz he couldn’t crack the language.”

Dipper shook his head, twisting the disk around to stare at the engravings. “No, the problem is that I haven’t seen symbols like these since… well it’s been a while. I’ll have to go back to confirm, and then run it by Ford, maybe even—,”

“No.” Even Theo’s babbling stopped as twin pairs of Mocha eyes landed on Xander who crossed his arms with the unyielding firmness of a mountain. “Dipper,” he pointedly locked eyes with his old college roommate, “You promised to leave the dangerous quests alone once the kids—,”

“I know what I promised Alexander,” Dipper immediately interrupted and jabbed a finger at his brother-in-law. Xander glared back. “But we were looking for an urn, not plasma burns. Let me know when you can start predicting the future so we can—,”

“Okay! Mommy is going to put all her boys to bed if they don’t settle down right now,” Mabel clapped Theo’s hands as the boy started kicking his feet shouting NO WANT. Both men slouched in their seats, pointedly not looking at the other.

She began bouncing the toddler again while facing her brother. “I’m gonna have to side with Xander on this though. This got way pew-pewier than we thought it would. So for now, we should leave it be. At least until I finish my classroom decorations and parent-teacher meetings next week. And no. You can’t ruin the Grunkles’ last sailing trip with more weirdness.”

Dipper glared down at his notes and the disk on his knee. “Fine. I’ll wait to go back to the cave, even if it’s likely safe since the security system’s disabled.” Mabel blew on her singed bangs as if to counter his statement. “But, if this is what I think it is, it’s too important to just drop.”

A bright and happy tune suddenly overshadowed human and tv conversation alike. Mabel and Xander both chuckled as Dipper’s sneaky dork ringtone of ‘Pi turned into music’ filled the apartment. He’d claimed it was the perfect nerd ringtone. Refined and classic but smart people would notice its true significance. Mabel loved to pretend he was using it to find other nerds. Xander knew Dipper got the idea after hearing it in a pie store.

Dipper shushed them and tapped his glasses. “Hello? …Oh, Melody! What’s up?”

“Hello Dipper! Sorry if I’m interrupting anything,” the woman on the other line whispered.

Dipper quirked a brow, “No, no. It’s fine. Mabel and I just came home.”

“HIII Melody!” Mabel shouted in Dipper’s ear. He cringed and shoved her away as the other woman laughed. He told her to hold on while he turned on the TV and switched the feed from his glasses to the screen so they could all talk without him losing his hearing. Xander still found himself occasionally jealous of Dipper’s handy specs, but Theo’d break them in a day.

“Anyway, what’s up Melody?” “Are the kids ok?” “Did an exhibit suddenly spring to life or drive someone insane?” “The shack didn’t burn down or explode again did it?” The three rapid fire asked the blank TV.

A pause and scuffling answered them. They listened to the muffled conversation. Theo gurgled bubbles from his mouth. “Melody, who are you. Aw dudette! You didn’t! I said I’d handle it,” the chummy voice of lovable Soos broke in on the other side. “Sorry dudes,” Soos yelled, clearer than before, “Pretend she didn’t say anything about weirdo gravity going kooky or stuff popping around. Ol’ Soos is on the case.”

The three on the east coast glanced at one another in various stages of apprehension. “Yes, well. I hadn’t said that yet, but he summed it up well enough. Oh, and the small quakes. It started a couple weeks ago. This place has always been a little weird but even the gnomes and manotuars have been twitchy. McGucket’s in no shape to check it out and we have our hands full here.”

“No we don’t dudes! Don’t worry about it.”

“Soos, go make sure Tristan and Julio finished their homework. It’s almost time for their shifts.”

“Okay Cariño. But seriously dudes! Don’t worry, you don’t like need to drop whatever you’re doing to check it out. We got this!”

“Soos!”

“You got it!”

Mabel ran her fingers through Theo’s hair while the toddler started making car noises again. Xander watched her sneak glances at her brother who was tapping his chin and scribbling notes on his notebook, brows furrowed.

“So, anyway,” Melody finally came back, “If you guys know what might be causing this, or if you can get a hold of the Stans to ask them? They aren’t answering right now, probably out of range. They are okay right?”

“Uh- ye-yeah. They’re just on their last sail. Don’t worry. We’ll get everything figured out for you!” Dipper nodded to the other two for backup.

“You bet! Mystery Trio is on the case!” Mabel beamed at Dipper and her husband.

Xander could feel the clock ticking again. That creeping sensation of dread filling his chest with every passing second. The twins didn’t feel it, they never did. They’d lived in weirdness and danger most of their lives. Despite the endless lights of the city, the sky outside seemed darker and more sinister as Dipper closed the line.

Xander stood from the laz-e-boy, remaining beer forgotten. “I have to pick up Kara,” he mumbled, heading to the front door for his coat and keys. Dipper stood and asked if he wanted him to pick her up. “Not after last time.” He didn’t try to make his laugh sound less strangled. Dipper rubbed the back of his head, muttering as they all recalled that disastrous meeting and the heated three-hour political debate. “Just have Theo washed and in bed when we come back.”

“Uh, sure. No problem,” Dipper responded and turned to his sister. A resounded NO WANT blasted from the toddler. “Mabes, we going back to Gravity Falls!” The twins smacked hands and did their adorkable twin dance.

Xander shook his head as they started hashing out plans and possible causes to “gravity anomalies and spatial displacement.” He grabbed his keys and closed the door behind him. The brightly lit, modern decor hallway filled with heavy air and his pounding heart. He wiped his hands on his pants as he walked to the elevator. “Why am I the only one that doesn’t think those things are ‘fascinating’?” The elevator dinged in response and closed behind him, cutting off his huff as it descended.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using this fic to improve my Author's Voice and writing style, so if you notice inconsistencies in style, that's why. Also, research to portray child characters correctly is daunting, feels like you need your own kids or a psych degree. @.@


	3. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper arrives in Gravity Falls and starts investigating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to sonysakura, itsmariahlorean, katlunawhisper, MichiruCipher and the three guests who left Kudos so far!

Thirty-five hours into the cross country drive, Dipper pulled his motorcycle off route 83 and into a town quaintly called Twin Falls. Between insomnia and stimulants, he could make the forty hour drive without sleeping. But there was little to be done when nature called.

He killed the near soundless engine in the grass littered lot of an old diner. _If I have to stop for basics, may as well eat something._ His grumbling stomach concurred. Granny’s Cafe and Bakery held all the charm expected of a trailer diner with one fan and a row of old barstools lining the single counter. Half of the fifteen stools remained vacant as Dipper returned from the mostly working bathroom. Most were older men, the dying breeds of truckers and Iraq vets refusing to admit defeat to tech and automation.

He sat and ordered classic scrambled eggs and toast. Gray, peeling  counters held a sheen and texture between frequently wiped and grease smears. The overall smell of the diner was oddly appetizing, with cigarette smoke, bacon and pancakes prevailing.

The closest diner cast him a sidelong glance. Dipper kept his eyes forward, tearing pieces from his napkin. Oldies from the 1980’s and 90’s played on the jukebox. He partially stifled a yawn and ordered another coffee as he waited.

“How much further?”

“Hm?” Dipper glanced over his mug at the white haired man next to him. Navy, according to hat and ink.

“How much further you have to go kid?” His gruff voice sounded like Stan’s, but without the amiable undertones. Dipper vaguely answered a few hours but didn’t specify location. No need to chance interesting the wrong people, and one never knew who that might be. The old vet, probably Nam or Korea, seemed to understand. He returned to his half finished pancakes with a glance at Dipper’s helmet and short warning of bad storms passing through. Dipper’s eggs arrived without Xander’s signature bacon and ketchup smile. 

Dipper waved for the check the moment he downed the last bit of coffee. He denied his stomach’s suggestion of cherry pie. Speed drops and caffeine weren’t miracles workers like other things he’d tried. Things Mabel had beaten him into a pulp over when she found out five years prior. A thin woman, ten years his senior with poorly died burgundy hair, dropped it in front of him with a wink. He kept his groan internal when he saw a phone number written at the bottom with a heart. _Probably has a thing for Bikers._ He paid and donned his antiqued brown, Kevlar lined jacket without a word.

Dark gray clouds peeked behind the Rockies as he stepped outside. The air still smelled of asphalt and grease more than rain. _Should make it._ He put another Speed Drop in each eye, blinked hard and replaced his glasses and helmet.

An hour back on the road, his phone rang. He triple blinked at the upper right corner of his glasses to answer.

“Hey Wendy! What’s up?”

“Hey man!” Her voice echoed through his helmet as the speakers switched from his frames to the head covering. “Heard the Mystery Twins are coming back to stir up more trouble. She bringin’ the rest of the family this time? Theo and Kara must be HUGE since last I saw’em!”

“Heh, yeah. Pretty soon Ford or I’ll be adding them to the monster sections of the journals.” They both chuckled. “But, it’s actually just me for now. I’m the only one who doesn’t have some adult thing called a regular job.”

“Yeah, what’s with that, Lazy Bones?” Her robust laugh never failed to bring a smirk to his face. “Hey, how’s her latest ‘Corps assignment going? Those elementary brats driving her nuts yet?”

“Course not, they love her and she’s running thr-four different committees. Xander’s heading up an inner city neighborhood rehab this time.”

“Cool, cool. And what trouble have you gotten into lately?”

“Actually… Mabel and I found something interesting the other day and… well it’s good timing to visit Gravity Falls to double check something.”

“Oh good, the conspiracy theory and paranormal sites n’ zines will be pleased.”

Dipper snorted at the clear sarcasm in her teasing. The lighter mood sank after a moment and Dipper’s tone turned serious, “Speaking of paranormal, can you give me a more detailed account of what’s been happening?”

Unfortunately, her report wasn’t much more than what he’d already heard and researched the night before. Tamer creatures spooked, gravity and spatial disturbances with occasional earthquakes. Causes and severity variable with countless likely causes. He’d have to talk to McGucket or the Gnomes for more intel. His shudder stopped midway when something other than a bug splattered against his visor.

His huff bounced through his helmet. “Hey Wendy, I’mma have to catch you later. Looks like rain.” A weather alert pinged in the lower left corner of his visor. Good thing eye rolls weren't a programmed movement. Although, there was that one time Mabel and her boyfriend, Rick, tweaked it to rickroll him.

“Yeah, my lunch is almost over anyway. Hey, drive safe dude. No wheelies in the rain, and don’t do anything stupid without backup.” Dipper resisted the urge to reply ‘Yes mom’. More drops hit his helmet as the line closed. A blind spot warning blipped to the right on his screen. He flip the switch to the neon blue safety lights built into his bike. Even with autopilot cars and trucks, bikers were still considered organ donors and Dipper wasn’t about to let Mabel say ‘I told you so’.

 

“Dude, you’re soaked,” the chubby teen with honey hair like his mother’s quipped when he opened the hand-carved front door.

“Yeah Marcel, storm systems do that to you.” Dipper’s hand shoved further in his soaked jacket pocket while the other hand gripped his helmet tighter. “Can you let Melody and Soos know I’m here?”

“Yeah sure. Come in,” he backed out of the way, “Oh, but don’t get mud on the rugs. Mom hates that.”

Dipper hummed, _Yeah, Xander and her always did get along._ He cringed as the boy walked away screaming for his parents. He rubbed the twinge forming  behind his left eye as he looked around the foyer. The house seemed even bigger than the last time he visited. Hard oak floors flowed from the entrance through the entertaining room next to him and into the large kitchen and dining area. Rich orange and red patterned rugs added a warm, soft element. Tasteful furniture, clearly picked by Melody, furnished all the rooms enough to feel lived in but not cluttered. Artifacts and trinkets from the Pines’ decades of adventures peeked out on shelves and tables. Everything smelled of Oak, Pine and warm cinnamon. It wasn’t an opulent or extravagant house, that wasn’t Soos or Melody’s style. But, with enough windows and bright colors, it managed to retain a log cabin feel while escaping the dark, dingy atmosphere from the Shack of his childhood. 

Absorbed in his observations, Dipper almost missed as another boy raced towards him.  “Yo! Uncle Dipper! You got here fast. Missed me enough to brave a storm I see.” Julio and Dipper brofisted with the mandatory “bwoosh” explosion. “Seriously, can I take your coat, get you a towel or something? Mom’ll flip if she sees ya getting the floors gunked up.”

“Actually, a towel would be great.”

“Dipper! You made it! Wow, that was fast dude. Musta taken a plane right?” Soos, followed closely by Melody in their classic Mystery Shack garb, entered from the hall connecting the house and garage to the new Mystery Shack. Before Dipper could stop it, Soos scooped him up into a bear of a hug. “Aw dude, you’re soaked! Heh, what’d you do, jump from the plane and land in the lake? Cuz you know… that be awesome. Hey Julio, go grab Dipper a towel dude.” His son huffed how he was already doing that.

“As cool as it’d be to sky dive again, I just drove Soos. Thanks Julio,” Dipper took the towel and pat himself down, using it to cover his yawn. Driving was the only option when he’d had too many gadgets and artifacts confiscated by airport security in the past.

“You made a three day minimum drive in two?” Melody put her hands on her hips, disapproving mom look clear on her face. Dipper rubbed the back of his neck with the towel, not meeting her gaze. She huffed after a moment. “You made it in one piece, so I won’t scold you this time. If you can stay awake, it’s pizza night. Go wash and change, then you can eat something and go to bed. The guest room is set up for you. Julio, help Uncle Dipper take his—,”

“Wait,” Dipper held his hands and helmet up, “You guys don’t have to put me up. I just wanted to let you know I was here and gather some more info before I started…” he trailed off at the severe look Melody gave him. The kind that Mabel learned from their mom and mastered shortly after Kara came along. He coughed, cheeks flushed, “Right, um… thanks. I appreciate your hospitality.” With the Ramirez kids calling him uncle since day one, he didn’t know why he thought he’d be staying at the Falls Motel.

Dipper’s appreciation for hot showers came in his late teens. Not from girls hating smelly boys, but from feeling human again after days without while hunting and being hunted by natural and supernatural things alike. They also helped with aches or sore muscles after skirmishes and forty hour bike rides. Proper laundry and bedroom maintenance came with threat of roomate war from Xander in college. Dipper jerked awake for the second time and finally turned off the near scalding water before he drowned.

The wait for the pizza was torture. Only Julio, Marcel and the oldest, Tristan, kept him awake with their banter and constant questions. He managed to scarf three slices down by the time the boys and Soos demolished three pizzas. Melody and Abulita ate a plain cheese between them.

Dipper offered to assist with clean up but Soos and Melody explained that was the boys’ chore. The three teens complained in unison but didn’t argue. As the boys bickered about who cleaned what up, Dipper pulled out his phone and stylus, ready to interrogate the Ramirezes. Melody pointedly cleared her throat, “Dipper, you’re going to bed before you do anything.”

“Yeah, you kinda look like you forgot what sleep is.” Soos smiled at Dipper like he was a toddler about to pitch a fit. Dipper opened his mouth to argue. It’d only been four days. Melody gave him another of her mom looks and pointed to the ceiling and rough direction of his bed. There was no room for argument. Tristan in the kitchen snickered and elbowed Julio, “No one tells mom no.”

Dipper was best compared to a coma patient for the next thirteen hours. Ordinarily, he rolled over five or six times before heeding his alarm clock. This time he forced himself to crawl out with the sunrise. In a haze, he dressed in his standard Kevlar jacket, with Cerulean shirt and gray jeans. He pulled the knife from under his pillow, strapped it inside his boot and donned his Zelda triforce cap.

The Kitchen’s small coffee pot was no match for his caffeine tolerance and needed refilled twice before the boys ran off for school. By the third pot, he was able to have coherent conversations with Melody and Abulita as they made sweet rolls for breakfast.

Minutes after the boys left, the doorbell rang. Melody answered as Dipper bookmarked an article on gravity experiments at MIT during 2025. He peeked around the corner and choked on his coffee when he saw the unmistakable shock of red hair that belonged to the Corduroys. Melody cut off whatever Wendy said as she wrapped her in bear hug. “Hey man, missed ya too!” She chuckled as she accepted the affection with her natural chill demeanor. “Dipper up and functioning yet?” Wendy walked into the foyer as Melody released her and moved aside. Dipper’s strangled coughs drew the red haired woman’s attention as Abuilita shuffled behind him to her overstuffed chair by the window nook. A bright smile lit her face. “Hm, I knew you’d be here and ready for trouble.”

She looked ready for trouble as well with her long hair braided and tightly bunned to her head, a few strands framing her face. Bramble defeating blue jeans and hiking boots covered her lower half while a warm red plaid jacket and black shirt finished the outfit. Her brown leather backpack was smaller than Dipper’s Military grade monstrosity, but looked just as well-worn.

Dipper finished choking on his coffee, “Wendy! Don’t you have, you know, class to teach?” Wendy’s surprise teaching career was what inspired Mabel down the same path. But where Mabel wanted to help underprivileged kids, Wendy wanted to make High School suck a little less for teens. She was also one of the only remaining adults unaffected by the Blind Eye’s memory wipes.

“Nah,” she waved her hand, “Told Principle Mayhu I needed the rest of the week off for personal reasons. It’s not like the high school will burn down again if I’m gone for a few days. You, on the other hand,” she winked at him, “ Will probably reverse the river or something if left unsupervised.”

Dipper tipped his hat brim down, “It’d be awesome if everyone stopped making it sound like I need a babysitter. I averted an all out war between two feuding Gnoll clans for pete’s sake!”

Wendy strolled over and stole his hat, “Relax dude, everyone knows you’re the coolest guy around. Just wanna make sure you have backup when you need it.” She put his hat back on sideways, “Now, you ready to go or what?”

As if on cue, Soos charged out of the master bedroom in his classic question mark teeshirt and hat, “Don’t forget about Soos dudes!”

Wendy held up her hand, “Sorry bro. We talked about this, remember? This trip’s for losers without families to take care of. Right Abulita?” The old woman nodded from her plush easy chair in the living room.

“Don’t worry Soos. You’ll be the first backup we call for if we need it.” Dipper patted him on the shoulder. Soos’ shoulders sagged a moment before he nodded and adjusted his hat. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pointed emphatically at it while looking at both of them. Nods all around as Dipper picked up his backpack. Shouts of ‘be careful!’ and ‘call if you need,’ followed Wendy and Dipper out the door.

“Ok,” Dipper tapped his glasses to open the video and voice recording apps as he headed for the mist laden forest, “My first plan is to find the Gnomes. They’re wired into the forest and if anything weird is happening, Jeff won’t hesitate telling us so we solve it for him. Pacifica still has Jeff mostly in charge right? Suppose I should have asked that first.”

Wendy’s laugh echoed through the trees, “Oh man, I keep forgetting that’s a thing. Yeah, I think she finally convinced them to call her CEO instead of Queen.”

Dipper snorted, “You think she’d love being called queen by a small army of men.” Her and Dipper became friendlier as they grew and she learned the meaning of humility, but she was still the same queen bee type from their youth.

Wendy batted away a low hanging branch, “Nah man. Trust me, pet names get annoying real fast.” Dipper chuckled in response before the two fell silent.

The mist drained most of the color from the forest, leaving only the strongest greens from conifers and the richest reds from the Maples. Early black birds and Jays chirped and tweeted as they flew high in the canopy. The spring frosted needles crunched under their feet while a gentle breeze played with their hair and noses, bringing the musty and soil encrusted scents to them.  Despite the danger always lurking throughout Gravity Falls forests, Dipper felt himself relaxing into the familiarity of his element.

“So, Mabel try to play match maker with you lately?”

Dipper could hear the smirk in her voice. He tried not to groan too loud as the myriad of men and women his sister deemed acceptable suitors spun through his mind. Wendy chortled and pat his shoulder, having been one of Mabel’s match making victims on occasion. “So, no luck in the romance department either?”

Wendy scrunched her face, “Last guy lasted three days. Real nut job. Thank Bunyan he was only a summer sub.” Her wave turned to a shrug.

“Ha, couldn’t have been worse than me right?”

“No man, he was like two and a half Dippers but in the worst ways. He didn’t even sneeze like a kitten!”

Dipper swiped at his nose, shoulders hunched, _No one_ _’s ever gonna let that go._ “Have you tried any supernatural yet? I’ve actually met some friendly vamps and dryads.” He pushed down the cringe that tried to bubble through him. _Yeesh, I sound like Mabel._

“Nah, if anyone’s gonna date something supernatural, it’ll be you. My money was on Mabel, but lost the bet there.” She jabbed his shoulder as she took lead, “So you need to earn my money back, ya hear?”

Dipper snorted, “She totally dated seve- eight supernatural for a few weeks each. And I’m still convinced Xander’s an android with how he can fix the wash machine in a half hour. Swear it answers back when he talks to it.” They both laughed before falling back into silence.

One of the nicest things about having Wendy as a partner was her ability to be there, without the need to constantly chat. Her presence strong enough not to feel some need for either of them to fill a void. It left space enough to stay alert. Yes, he loved working with his sister most. But, it was nice to have the quiet sometimes.

Of course, quiet also left room for thinking and their conversation dragged up memories from the best summer of his life five years ago when he and Wendy lived in Portland. But Wendy, while tolerant of supernatural, didn’t want to travel round the world hunting it. Living through an Apocalypse had that effect on people. Besides, Gravity Falls was home. He knew that feeling well, but didn’t experience it as acutely as the lumberjack’s daughter.

He’d offered to give it up and received a solid thrashing. ‘You’re gonna be one of them crazy nut jobs who uncovers something that changes the world. It’s not my speed, but there’s no way I’m letting you give that up. Not for some dumb girl, you doofus.’ He smiled as he watched her move through the forest like one of its natural residents. His twelve-year-old self surfaced to remind him that this was enough.

About three miles into their hike, Wendy finally spoke again, a edge to her tone, “Dude, the Gnomes aren’t normally this far in. We should have seen something by now.”

Dipper nodded, he’d noticed it too. “Maybe Pacifica ordered most of them to her factory?” Wendy’s silence conveyed she didn’t agree with his suggestion either. Dipper’s mouth pulled into a tight line as he examined spindly moss on a nearby rock. The gnomes were like an indicator species in a river, they were the first to disappear if the environment was hostile.

He glanced at the click and whoosh behind him. Wendy unsheathed her axe. They locked eyes and nodded. Dipped stood and pulled his truncheon from the side pocket of his backpack. It was a graduation present McGucket and Ford had designed. A stun baton with variable settings, including retractable mace-like blades if 500 volts didn’t stop an attack.

They kept moving forward. Each step cautious and silent. Birds continued singing, squirrels raced through trees. A small herd of deer paused their morning meal to watch them. They kept their weapons out.

Minutes later Wendy stopped their trek. She crouched down and measured some tracks in the mud and frost. She nodded to herself and rose. “Fresh gnome tracks. Maybe they moved their home base again.” Dipper nodded, scouring for more. Wendy found them first and he followed her lead.

They made it ten crunching steps. “What the hell?” The air started to shimmer like a desert road. Wendy suddenly grabbed her chest, a startled gasp straining through her mouth. It hit Dipper next. A pressure squeezing him in an iron grip.

The pressure increased around them, from an uncomfortable bear hug to crushing them under miles of water. The forest lost all sound save the ringing in his ears. His skin started to tingle in a blood loss manner. Dipper looked to Wendy. She was on her knees as well. He tried to reach for her, to say something. He didn’t have time as his very atoms untangled and they fell apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for this chapter coming out late. I was vacationing at the beach with terrible net access. Hope you like this chapter and its cliff hanger! If I get enough interest, I'll post the next chapter this week to make up for the delay. If not, next week it is!  
> Please, someone tell me this doesn't read like a college essay/summary. My inner perfectionist is berating me q.q


	4. Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what you've all been waiting for. Don't lie to yourselves.

Harsh gasps broke the cemetery silence of the forest. Dipper lay prone and wheezing after the universe dumped him on the frosted forest floor.  Long shed leaves and needles stuck to his damp clothes and face. Thick fog and sap resin a weak salve on the razorblades shredding his throat and lungs with every breath. His heart pound in his chest as if to break ribs and burst his eardrums. Skin and muscles buzzed with the worst pins and needles of his life.

A low groan crawled from his throat as he dragged himself into a sitting position against the rough bark of a monumental Cedar. Trembling hands raced over his body, checking for missing or damaged parts. Though he regained a measure of control over his breathing as he confirmed everything remained in its proper place, his thoughts continued to fracture in every direction. _Where am I, what was that, what caused it, will it happen again, are my liver and stomach still there!?_

Like a dry riverbed replenished by a drizzle, strength returned to his legs. He forced his feet under him using the Cedar trunk for support. Confirmation of his stomach’s placement came as it roiled with his movements. He ignored it enough to look around. His heart resumed its attack on his ribs as he took in his surroundings.

Ancient, towering Cedars and Black Oaks blocked the sun, leaving the smallest motes of light to fall through giant leaves. Lazy coiling fog twisted over the ground, as if to devour the little light and warmth provided by the sky. Oppressive, stagnant air stunk of sap resin, centuries old rot and the musk of animals hunting and hunted.

The forest lay absent of normal woodland sounds. Birds didn't sing or cry in alarm, no squirrels or rabbits scampered. Not even the scurry of mice or rustle of leaves disturbed the silent vigil of the forest. The forest felt empty, abandoned, as if he was the only one to trespass in eons. Desolate, yet vaguely threatening, like the knots in every tree watched and waited. Waited for the foolish to stumble into its clutches. A chill ran up Dipper’s spine, having nothing to do with cold or fog.

"The Deep Forest. Shit." Dipper hunkered back down. Nerves screamed, every hair raised, alert. He repeatedly tapped on the right temple of his glasses to activate them. "Come on come on." Left fist clamped around cold dirt and needles. Nothing. His glasses refused do more than help him see clearly. Curses fell from him in subdued growls as he yanked his backpack open to test the other electronics. Phone, external GPS, camera, voice recorder, even the stun baton sat like useless bricks in his hands. "Great... Temporal teleportation drains electronics. Please please please don't let anything be fried."

He forced himself to breathe deeply through his nose for a minute, counting down the seconds. With a last breath and a thorough scan, he stood again.  Minuscule breaks in the dark canopy allowed him to check the sun’s position. _Still in the east. Good._ He sighed, careful hiking the only option. _Omitting time and intergalactic travel, the town should still be.... Northeast of here. Wendy_ _’d know for sure._ Dipper paled, hand reflexively tapping his glasses again to call her. "Shit shit shit." He spun around, hissed whispers of the redhead’s name falling from his lips. No answer. No sight or movement. More isolated than he ever liked feeling, he grabbed his baton and darted northeast.

 _Please let Wendy have landed somewhere safe._ He kept checking his glasses and whispering her name as he trudged through the forest. Years of track and field as well as outrunning danger maximized his stamina and forest stealth. However, the Deep Forest loved unpleasant surprises. _Please let me attract only friendly things, like the Multi-bear, or Dancing Dames. I_ _’ll even take a Hide-Behind._ After an hour of swift hiking over harsh, uneven terrain, burning legs and lungs forced him to slow.

Despite the Sun’s high position, mist continued to swirl around his ankles and the frigid air bit at his nose and ears. _Fine day to forget my scarf._ He cupped his hands over his mouth and nose to breath on them. Despite the chill, sweat dripped down his brow. His hair, backpack, everything, stuck to him, chilling him further. Time seemed a myth in the ancient forest. The only indicator frequently hidden behind an unforgiving canopy.

He finally allowed himself a break when the sun dipped below the canopy to provide slanted orange light through the trunks. He leaned against a Maple that reeked of age and moss. Twigs, small bones, and sodden leaves littered its base. He checked his glasses again. _Damnit_. Dry lips sipped his canteen, rationing it for the rest of the hike. He forced his mind to stay calm, refusing both best and worst case scenarios in case he jinxed either.

Motes of hope and reassurance floated through him as he noticed subtle forest sounds returning while he caught his breath. A fluttering of wings, insect or fairy he wasn't sure. Subdued chirps in the distance. Florals and honey mingled with the warming breeze and bubbling trickles of water just out of sight. _Least I wasn_ _’t days into the forest_. He shuddered at the thought of traversing the blackest heart of Gravity Fall’s forest, alone or with company.

Taking a chance with the moment of peace, Dipper pulled out pencil and paper. He always kept old school methods with him in case of electronic failure or hostile uprising. Scant minutes passed as he jotted down all the day’s experiences in his own shorthand. He would have preferred to wait until he returned to the shack, but the worst lie humans tell themselves is they’ll remember something. Given current events, every detail seemed important.

Notes written and strength returned to his legs and he pushed off the tree, ready to use his second wind. He pulled out a basic compass to check his direction against the sun. Brows scrunched as the needle spun in unhelpful circles. Ordinarily, the Deep Forest confused compasses; something about the magnetic field distorted for yet confirmed reasons. However, it usually held close to true north enough to be useful. He added the spinning needle to his notes. _Maybe the teleportation affected it as much as my electronics._ He shrugged and pressed on using only old school sun navigation.

The resumed hike lasted three steps before his glasses blipped into life with a cheerful ding. After the brief heart attack, a silent cheer and fist pump burst from him. Victory was short lived. "Of course no signal. Thanks for nothing Google Loon." He swiped his watch and left arm anyway. The holographic keypad linked to his watch activated. Wendy's name popped up a moment later. Quick taps on his left arm entered, "r u ok im ok in deep forest meet @ shack". He cringed at the short hand, but they existed for a reason. His glasses warned him of the send error. He set it to try again when it located a signal.

Message semi-sent, he continued his trek. A moment later, the hub screen on his glasses twitched. He pulled them off for inspection. _Probably low on battery. Hopefully Wendy still gets the message. Why did they turn back on anyway?_ He replaced them and took another step. The crack of twigs under his feet blasted through the forest like an old car backfiring. Dipper stopped. The forest sat silent as a grave again.

Dim, low sunlight cast a ruddy orange hue over the landscape. A shiver ran up his spine, his hair rose on end. Adrenaline spiked his nerves. He dropped down behind a bush and switched his glasses to stealth mode. One he programed himself to use the proximity driving app and place everything in silent mode, because nothing killed you faster than an ill-timed phone call. No proximity alerts appeared.  He peeked around the bush. Zilch. Honed instincts didn’t let him relax.

 _A wraith? Strigoi? Gremoblin?_ He forced his breathing to calm but his hand tightened on the Baton. Movement to his far left made him scoot behind a tree. _The_ _best confrontation is the one avoided_ , came the old mantra from his favorite kung fu cartoon as a tween. _Just wait it out._

Whatever it was, it didn't make a sound, but his skin tingled like he was touching a plasma globe. The whole area felt as if lightening just crackled through it. A three-meter orange blind spot warning signaled to his right. _Good, parallel, keep going, come on._ His knuckles turned white around the baton. Heart pounding, he peeked around the tree. _Please be a wraith or irate fairy._

Dipper’s breath, heart, everything, all of it stopped. Three meters away, less than ten feet, floated a solid yellow triangle with a black top hat and tiny black arms and legs dangling from its base. The drifting triangle paused and slowly bent its upper half like twisting metal towards his tree. Dipper jerked back behind the trunk. His lungs burned, protesting that what little breath he could draw was not enough. Eyes strained, unable to lose sight of the dot in his lenses long enough to blink. Triangular images raced through his mind too fast to catch, too fast to think of anything else.

The blind spot warning flickered red. One meter. Dipper gulped. His legs shook. Both hands grasped the baton. The red dot started flashing. One foot.  He pushed himself hard against the tree, eyes locked to the right. _Don_ _’t see me, Don't see medontseeme!_ Rough bark bit at his skin. Backpack contents dug into his spine. His lungs screamed for air.

Yellow came into his periphery.

Wide, brown eyes met a single, large eye containing a slitted pupil.

Internal screaming was all he could hear. A high-pitched ringing like the time a bomb exploded near to him. His heart felt like it gave out as the triangle bent to face him fully. Bow tie above its brick line, brow scrunched over its single eye. Dipper stumbled backwards as the eye came closer. One word ghosted from his lips and shattered the world.

"Bill."

The triangle stopped, eye impossibly widening as Dipper's legs quit. He stared up at the one-meter tall shape hovering above him. His eye stared back at him. Blank.

"Bill," the triangle repeated. A harsh, golden glow emanated from his body like a flicked on and off flashlight. He rubbed under his eye as one would their chin when deep in thought. Suddenly, his body glitched, turning gray and pixelated as if he had a lagging net connection.

It was the momentary disruption Dipper needed. He shouted and scrambled to his feet. His legs pumped hard and fast, heedless of direction. His pack slapped against his back. Everything burned as he sprinted, barely clearing fallen logs and avoiding ankle breaking holes. _Thiscan'tbereal.Thiscan'tbereal! DeepForestillusion. Teleportingsideeffect. Notenoughsleep. Anythingbutthis!_ Thrashing heartbeats drowned all other sound as he crashed through the dense forest like a rabbit chased by a wolf.

He vaulted over another fallen, mushroom covered tree. His feet didn’t return to the ground. Violent red encased him, burning as if held too close to an inferno. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, as he hovered over a steep ravine marred with jutting stones and trees. His body drifted backwards against his will. The red haze vanished and he dropped to the ground for the second time that day.

"You don't listen well, do you?" A high pitched, electronic edged voice commented. Dipper shuddered and gasped. His lungs and mind refused to function properly. A red dot rapidly blinked in his left lens as Bill drifted beside him. “Here. You dropped this.” Dipper flinched backwards as his Baton thumped next to him. “It’s rude to litter.” He glanced up at the triangle. Bill had his arms crossed, foot tapping in the air as he looked down on him.

“Whoa! Hey!” Bill drifted backwards as Dipper grabbed the baton and brandished it in front of him as if the best he could do was keep the triangle at bay. “You’re supposed to say thanks when someone saves you!” Bill’s hands clamped on his sides, his one eyed glare growing more pronounced.

"Yeesh kid." Bill rolled his eye as Dipper kept the baton raised, albeit shaking, "If I wanted you hurt, I woulda let you fall. Now put that thing down and just answer my questions." The snappy dressed triangle floated silently as Dippers brain processed at winter molasses pace.

The baton lowered a fraction. "You... don't... know me?" His mouth barely knew how to form coherent words as his mind rebooted.

Bill wobbled his hand, "Yes and no. Hence why I need you,” he pointed to Dipper, “to answer a few questions. Only seems fair right?" he thumbed at the hill, eye twisted in a knowing smirk.

Dipper wasn’t sure if he imagined the dark hint to the triangle’s tone as his eyes betrayed him, leaving the triangle to glance down the ridge. "What... What do you want to know?" His voice shook as he looked back up at Bill. The baton lowered to the ground but stayed firmly in hand. He didn't bother trying to stand up yet. His mind barely passed _this can't be happening_ to _this is real, what do I do, why me?_

"Excellent,” bill cheered and soundlessly clapped his hands together, "Now, you said 'Bill' when you saw me. Am I correct in assuming that's my name and not some new thing kids are saying these days?"

Dipper nodded. His brain finally functioning. _Point one: bill is somehow back. Point two: doesn't seem to remember me or his own name. Likely due to the memory gun?_ He wasn’t yet sure if that was his best ever stroke of luck.

"Hmmm, Bill," he tapped a finger under his eye, "Eh, not exactly inspired but it’s a start." His arms raised up and down his sides in a shrug. He looked back at Dipper who had adjusted to a more comfortable, yet ready to bolt, seated position. "What's your name Kid? How do we know each other? Are we friends, is that why you have triangles on your hat?" Bill hovered close and poked the triforce symbol on Dipper’s hat. He said nothing of the human’s hard flinch, but Dipper mentally congratulated himself for not fainting.    

The human of the two kicked into planning and curiosity mode as his immediate panic and fear of death ebbed. _Is he really amnesic, to what degree? Can his memory be triggered as easily as Stan_ _’s, what will he do if it is?_ Weirdmageddon came back to him as clear as morning’s breakfast. _Lying will certainly backfire if he figures it out._ That left a repeat of Toottoot McBumpersnazzle and his banjo-playing band was out of the question. So was the truth. _You tricked and tried to kill my whole family and destroy the world_.

Snapping fingers grabbed his attention, "Any time now Kid, we've only got five billion years until your sun incinerates this planet."

“Really? Thought it was seven…” Dipper leaned forward on his knees mulling over the numbers and latest research.

Bill snapped again, “Focus Kid!”

“Right, sorry!” Dipper sat up straighter, “And my name's Dipper, not Kid." Bill made a noncommittal sound but his eye denoted his opinion on the name. _Great, still has his charming personality._ He huffed first before crossing his arms and looking away. "Yeah, we knew each other. Been awhile but we... we helped each other a couple times. Yeah, I did some favors for you, you helped me solve some mysteries... Then you left... And now your here... Yeah..." Dipper donned his best poker face and silently prayed to any benevolent deity that might or might not exist. He tried not to fidget from the pine needles and stones digging into him while he waited. Sweat beaded on his brow as Bill remained silent.

Finally, "Sounds like a mutually beneficial relationship." Bill twirled his hand and relaxed in the air. Dipper gulped and nodded as Bill continued, "So, know anything else, like what you meant when you say I 'left'?"

Dipper's breath hitched, goosebumps prickling his arms. It was a loaded question if Bill’s finger quotes were any indication. _Even a partial truth here would raise unwanted questions._ "I um... I don't know. Um... Why don't you tell me?" _What am I doing?_

"Pardon?" Bill’s brow lowered, a suspicious tone creeping into the question.

"Yeah, no. I mean... Tell me what you know and maybe I can fill in some holes?" _Martin Dipper Pines, you are supposed to be getting out of this situation, not engage! Abort abort!_ His jaw clenched, hand tightening over the baton.

"Oh, I know lots of things! Pluto is a planet along with three others Earth scientists are missing, their working Theory of Everything is way off, and historians are still clueless about the Roanoke colonists." Bill stopped at the deadpan expression on the other's face.

"Ugh, fine!" Bill crossed his arms, posture rigid as he looked away, "I woke up paralyzed. Couldn't see, do, or remember anything. But I could hear. Someone talked to me a few times, mostly boring and whiny stuff," he rolled his eye, "but said if someone shook my hand I’d be free. Finally happened and here I am, in some boring forest, and every time I try to remember anything about mys..."            

Whether it was for demonstration or not, Bill grayed and fizzed like TV static, even some of his bricks vanished before he righted himself back to normal with a shake. "So, any holes you can fill in? Whoa, you alright? Looks like you're about to lose a brick."

Dipper didn't think he would ever regain his color, or that there were enough profane words in the world to properly express himself. _Of course he could hear. Fuck, he could hear!_ _‘Leave well enough alone Dip.’ ‘Don't go looking for trouble man.’ ‘Dude, why were you in the woods at night?'_ _Son of a bitch.... This is all my fault!_

Bill backpedaled as Dipper scrambled to his feet. "I..." Dipper glanced at the sky and his stomach knotted twice as much, "I’m sorry Bill. I have to go." He started marching away with the low hanging sun behind him to the left.

"Go? You can’t go, you haven't answered anything! Stop, Come BACK!"

"Ah, shit!" Dipper yanked his fingers from his glasses as they shocked him, the GPS and message system blanking out like a computer unplugged. He pulled the frames from his face. Sure enough, smoke drifted from the nano-processor in the legs and a heavy ozone scent wafted in the air. Dipper turned on Bill.  "Did you just fry my glasses?!" He didn't try to keep his voice in check.

The triangle held his hands up, waving them frantically as his color faded from brick red to yellow. "I’m sorry I’m sorry! I didn't mean to, I just.... I’m sorry..." Bill shrank in size to half a meter, twiddling his fingers and wouldn't meet the other’s glare.

Dipper huffed and readjusted his glasses. "Now I really need to go,” he stalked away again muttering, “Can’t navigate at night with the stars blocked."  He checked both the regular compass and his external GPS as he moved. One spun uselessly while the other refused to turn on. _Man, I hope Soos can work his magic on these. Least I have my spare frames. Mabel'd never let me live it down if she had to ship them again._

"Hey wait, I know the forest here well now. I can help you." Bill, now only one foot tall, zoomed next to him.

"No way Bill. People in town will see you and lose it." Bill stopped dead and asked the obvious question of why. Dipper froze midstep from his mistake. He refused to look back as he scrambled, "Because, you’re a floating, talking triangle. That's weird even for around here. People don't like what they don't understand, you know?"

"Wow, rude. Guess it’s good you’re the first person I’ve seen."

"Heh, yeah." _Lucky me._ Dipper cringed, hoping the triangle didn't catch his tone.

"Well...Guess I won’t let anyone else see me." Bill remained his smaller size and floated a few feet ahead, bending back to wave Dipper onward. “Come on Ki-Dipper, day’s not getting any brighter!”

Dipper stood there gaping like a fish. He debated the pros and cons of arguing with Bill Cipher, amnesiac or not. He sighed as self-preservation won out and followed the triangle at a distance. _I know the woods well enough that he shouldn_ _’t be able to lead me to a trap. Most likely._ It wasn’t as comforting as he hoped.

The two said little as they hiked. Well, Dipper hiked. Bill floated ahead of him and made comments that sounded more condescending than encouraging. “I’m sure I’d walk slow too if I couldn’t fly.” “You’re surprisingly resilient!” “Humans have such short lifespans… but I’m sure you won’t die anytime soon.”

Dipper caught Bill glancing at him frequently. Granted, he did the same. They’d catch each other and avert their gazes as if burned. Aside from the occasional comments, silence prevailed to a stifling degree. It was as if all of nature knew what Bill was and did its best to avoid him. Eventually, it wore on Dipper too. Now that his fried glasses couldn't alert him with blind spot warnings, it was jarring to catch glowing yellow glimpses from time to time. Along with a tingle along his skin whenever Bill drifted too close.

With the near total silence of the forest around them, Dipper soon found himself asking about the lost Roanoke colonists. Bill was more than happy to share what he knew and the two quickly fell into debate and discussion as they walked. Bill occasionally redirected Dipper to keep him on the correct path and from falling prey to roots and mole holes.

Their conversation about the constellations and their origins ended when the edge of the forest and the Shack came into view. Dipper paused several tree rows in and turned to Bill. The triangle stared blankly at the shack. "Bill?" Dipper reached for the other, his smirk slipping as Bill continued to stare. He yanked his hand back as the other grayed and glitched like a rendering error. Eight stifling seconds passed before bill shook and returned to his normal yellow.

"So, you live here?" Bill jabbed a thumb at the Mystery Shack.

"Are we not gonna talk about why you keep doing that?"

"Do what, the twitching thing? That's not normal for me?"

Bill’s pinched voice and wide eyed expression had Dipper sputtering, "Um...well, I mean.... Maybe? It’s worrisome though, especially if you don’t know when or why you’re doing it.”

“Oh.. Hmm.” Bill rubbed under his eye again. Small bits of him flaked off, as if someone was chiseling away at him. He glitched again and returned to normal. His focus returned to Dipper, an intense look to his eye. “You said you did favors for me before.” Dipper gulped but nodded. “Will you do me another?”

Their attention snapped to the Shack as the door banged open and shut. Dipper stiffened as two figures with flashlights strolled into the darkness. Judging by their back lit silhouettes, it was Soos and Wendy. "Shit. Hey Bill. Thanks for helping me find my way back faster but you need to make yourself scarce, now."

Bill eyed the two ambling closer to the trees. "Are those two of the triangle haters?"

"Ye- no!" Dipper flailed with a harsh whisper, "It’s just with what happened earlier today, seeing you too... It’s just bad timing."

Bill hummed, arms crossed and eye narrowed. “Alright, I’ll go. But… can you promise me something? Promise you’ll meet me again; help me figure out what’s wrong with me.”

Dipper resembled a fish momentarily for the second time that day. He glanced back at Wendy and Soos. They were almost to the tree line. Bill moved closer, glancing between him and the approaching duo. Dipper found himself nodding. “Sure, okay. But not in the forest.” _Too far and likely others will see him._ “Know the cave behind the waterfall at the lake?” Bill nodded, his body flickering to show an image of the rendezvous. “Meet me there in two days. I’m not an expert, but I’ll do what I can. For now, go!”

The triangle's eye scrunched up in the brightest smile, literally glowing brighter at Dipper’s consent. He glanced back at the other two, silently nodded to Dipper in what looked more like a bow before the dark of the forest engulfed him.

Dipper didn't have time to panic over what he had just agreed to as a giant body followed by a smaller one slammed into him.

"Ohmygosh man, what the heck happened to you?!" Wendy shouted once Soos let Dipper breathe again.

"Ah.... Long... Long story. Can we discuss it over food and something stronger than beer?" Soos and Wendy exchanged glances but said nothing as they ushered him out of the dark forest and into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Bill's back! I'm sure you were expecting this sort of thing. But let me know what you think of the set up so far, if you're so inclined. Also, was trying to keep to a steady 3000ish words for each chapter... this one broke 4000. Some of the upcoming ones are even longer =.=;


	5. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper deals with increasing problems.

"Dipper?" Alerts for 37 missed calls and messages from friends and family minimized as Mabel answered, "OHMIGAWD DIPPER! Are you ok? What happened, Wendy said you were together in the woods then you disappeared and she couldn't findyouandyouwouldntansweranditwashoursand-,"

"Mabel! Breathe! He's calling, obviously he's fine." The feed crackled as Xander yanked the phone from her before she hyperventilated or broke Dipper's hearing. "You are fine, right?" A scuffle broke out as Mabel demanded the phone back, presumably crawling on her husband like a giant monkey.

Dipper snorted as a crash garbled the line and his sister returned breathless, "Dipper, what happened? Do I need to come over for backup?"

"NO!" Dipper ceased pacing. He coughed, forcing a laugh, "No Mabes. It was one of the gravity glitches Melody told us about. I just drew the short end of the stick and landed in the Deep Forest instead of the middle of town. No one was hurt. Though threatening to bring me back as a zombie to kill me again if I was dead doesn't help." Mabel snickered. "Anyway, Wendy and I are looking into it." Dipper refused to give himself away by chewing on his pen when silence answered him.

"Okay Bro-bro," her tone that of a mother who knew her child took the cookies from the jar. "But you'll tell me if you need backup right?"

"Of course. But remember, I already have Soos and Wendy. McGucket as a last resort. Every thing's under control. You just worry about keeping your own monsters in line." Xander chuckled in the background. Dipper repressed his own. He could feel Mabel's scrutinizing glare through the phone.

The conversation turned ninety degrees when Kara's mumbled request to speak to Uncle Dipper drifted through the speaker. "Hey Karate, how's Waddles Jr?" A smirk tugged at his lips as an electronic oink and grumbles answered. After a moment, Kara began her rapid-fire questions to make her mother proud. "Yes, Wendy and Soos are fine. Tristan's hair's still short. I'll be home when I'm finished here. Yes, Gompers is still alive… somehow. No, no fairies yet. Sure, I'll bring you and Theo something back from the Shack."

 Dipper paused his pacing again to glance at the clock on his laptop. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be in bed little miss? It's 12:30 there." Xander called from the background that Mabel's ruckus when he called woke her up. Dipper cringed; just imagining the searing glare his brother-in-law was giving the phone. Mabel came back on the line as Kara said good night. The conversation ended with more assurances and excuses of research with a side helping of veiled threats from Mabel's end.

The laptop jostled as Dipper dropped onto the bed next to it. He shifted to lean against the contemporary wooden headboard of the spare bedroom.  Thirty browser tabs stared back at him while he gnawed on his black pen. An unpleasant sensation coiled in his chest as he looked at the amnesia tabs. It was a feeling he was used to, but never liked.

_I can_ _’t tell any of them yet. Who knows what they'd do._ Well, he knew Mabel would be there in a heartbeat. Possibly using her twin sister powers to warp space and time better than whatever sent him to the Deep Forest. _Could I tell Xander and hope he can distract or restrain her?_  He snorted, unable to stop the image of Mabel dragging Xander and the kids behind her. An unstoppable force of nature in her own right. The Grunkles would have heart attacks. Wendy and Soos would likely lock him in the basement and get his head examined if he told them he agreed to meet Bill again.

Dipper rubbed under his glasses as ‘Shack set on fire and turned to stone with everyone in it’ added itself to the list of ways the day and his encounter with Bill could have gone worse. That made twenty-three and counting. Most ended with himself or others dead. He shook his head, hand scraping through his drying hair. _I just need to better understand what's happening here, then I'll tell them...maybe._ The coil in his chest didn't loosen. He clicked through more tabs and shuffled through increasing notes while he downed another Super Bull.  
 ~~~~

~~Dream demon~~. ~~Weirdmageddon~~. ~~Grunkle Ford~~. ~~The journals~~. ~~Mindscape~~. ~~Deals~~. ~~Memory gun~~. ~~Mabeland.~~ Pyrokenesis. All except the last in a growing list lay crossed out in a mangled red notebook. _Maybe mentioning his pyrokenesis won_ _’t cause too many problems?_ A scene of swirling red and blue lights while hoses blasted water into a raging inferno that used to be the forest and Gravity Falls flickered through his imagination. He grimaced, _Maybe not_ _…_

He pulled his glasses off, dragging his other hand across his face. _This takes the whole bakery on stupid shit I've done. Why did I agree to meet him again, to help him! What am I expecting to happen?_ The answer was obvious in that Bill would turn around and thank him for his help by leveling the town and everyone in it. _Okay... What am I hoping will happen?_ A taste like powdered pills coated his mouth. He didn't know. Pen scritching and keyboard clacking continued long into the night.

 

 

Eggs, pancakes, and bacon wafted their aroma through the house like a delicious blanket. It contrasted morosely with the whirling gears in Dipper's head as he sat at the kitchen table with Tristan.  Marcel and Julio had early morning sports practice- Baseball and Lacrosse respectively- so were long gone. _I can't believe I fell asleep. Even if it was only two hours. There's too much I need to work on._ He glared at the steaming black liquid in his mug as if it knew the real reason behind his irritation.

_Didn't think I'd ever sleep again now that Bill's back. Especially without sheet drenching nightmares like before._ He chewed his lip. _Am I not taking this serious enough? I agreed to meet him. Didn't even look up how to get rid of him. Maybe I should be locked in the basement for my own good._ Narrowed eyes flicked to the small, four-pronged scars on his left arm from a previous lapse in judgment thanks to his obsession with a mystery. He strangled his coffee mug with the fervor of a criminal keeping a witness quiet.

Melody placed a heaping plate of breakfast in front of him. He nodded his thanks to hide the flinch from her sudden appearance. Tristan whined when his plate came with a side serving of head kisses and ruffled hair. The teen fixed his do and glared at Dipper when the man was too slow to hide his smirk.

Tristan inhaled his whole breakfast by the time Dipper managed half. His stomach threatened rebellion if he ate another bite. Melody and Soos, with their plates piled highest yet, sat on his sides opposite each other once the teen left for school. Soos asked if Dipper planned to eat the rest of his bacon. The plate slid over to the father while Dipper patted his stomach. _Man, no wonder this family is made of micro Hulks._ He’d seen Melody dead-lift the golf cart off little Tristan once. Even Abulita could lift the couch while vacuuming.

"So dude, you sure you wanna go out again today? After what you said happened..."

"Yeah, no. I need more data before it happens to someone who will get hurt. Although," Dipper thumbed at his teal mystery shack mug, "do you still have that unicorn hair stash? I was thinking it might be-"

"You think it's dangerous enough to warrant that?" Melody bit her lip, glancing to Soos and Abulita.

"Nonono, just a precaution." Dipper waved his hand, "I'm not even sure what's causing it yet. But, if the warp pockets move, hopefully it will protect the Shack and keep anyone from warping in their sleep."

The coil tightened again in Dipper's chest as the Ramirezes nodded in acquiescence. Not even a question or doubt passing between them regarding his handle on the situation as they returned to breakfast. Dipper sipped his coffee as Melody and Soos discussed the day's plans, tours and how to set prices and sales for the week. He tried to ignore the more flirtatious comments and looks that passed between them.

Conversation settled when Abulita rose from her chair, "Who like more Pina juice?" She shuffled back into the kitchen without waiting for a response. Soos hustled after her. Before Dipper could start up a conversation with Melody, a tremor rattle the windows and silverware. The two looked about. Dipper quirked a brow at Melody. She nodded to the unspoken question.

“Ay, Dios Mio!”

“Uh, dudes, check this out!”

Dipper and Melody clamored into the kitchen, only to stop at the entrance. All the loose objects on the counters- cereal boxes, spices, silverware, dishes, soap dispenser- hovered six or more inches above their regular spot. Abulita held her hand over her mouth. Soos moved to grab a box of Cheerios. “Woah, heh heh, look! I’m like one of those moon landing guys now!” A wide grin spread on his face. His feet took their sweet time to return to the ground as he jumped again.

Dipper switched on the camcorder in his glasses as Melody laughed and joined her husband. Abulita burst out in Spanish, scolding them and throwing some saucy words Dipper hadn’t expected of an old woman. Without the forewarning rumble, gravity returned to normal. All the floating items crashed or spilled back on to the counter.

“No otra vez,” Abulita sighed, hands on hips.

“Just think, if we could do that on purpose. Customers would love it! We could call it, Gravity Floats!” Melody giggled as Soos spun her, proclaiming her a genius.

 Dipper frowned, leaning against a counter as he replayed the thirty-second footage. It didn’t reveal anything he missed the first time. He’d run it through filters later. “How often has this happened? Did it begin the same time as the quakes and teleportation?”

“No dude, this is like, the third time we’ve seen floating.”

“Strongest one yet,” Melody added as she helped Soos and Abulita clean, “The last one was in the Shack and only stuff like paper clips and pencils moved.”

“Anything in town?”

“Marcel and Julio said the school shook last week and their papers floated an inch or two off the desks.” Melody frowned at the spilled salt before tossing a pinch over her left shoulder.

Dipper rubbed his chin, frown deepening. _So the occurrences aren_ _’t stationary or long lasting. But, they’re getting stronger. Is there a pattern? Has to be. Just need to find it. Is it Bill’s doing? Can he do something like this? What else could…_ His head jerked up. “Soos, before you open the Shack, can I check the Portal? Knowing this town, damn thing turned real.”

Melody snorted, a wicked grin on her face as she crushed and dropped an empty can in the recycling bin. “Did you get on the schedule and prepay the 150 for the full tour?”

Dipper’s jaw dropped, “Holy! People willingly pay that much?”

“Mostly they just want to see the Amber Dinos.” She shrugged. “But don’t worry. I’ll give you the family discount. Two-hundred dollars for a private tour without pre-registering.” She winked.

“Gee, thanks,” Dipper chuckled. Soos came back into the kitchen and handed Dipper a thin card with a question mark on it. “Thanks.” Dipper tipped card. “Code still the same?”

“Ye-NO. It’s uh…”

“A2B8.”

“Heh, yeah. Thanks Mi Amor.” He turned back to Dipper after blowing his wife a kiss. “What’ll you do if it did turn real or somethin?”

Dipper shrugged, looking the card over. “Call Ford and Gucket to help dismantle it.” He smirked at Melody, “Sorry bout potential lost revenue.”

“Pssh,” she waved, “Leave the pieces and we can spin a good tale.”

_If only truth wasn_ _’t stranger than fiction._ Dipper tipped the card again, grabbed his jacket, and made his way to the Mystery Shack and security door. One card swipe, entered code and elevator ride down left him in the renovated Shack basement.

Dust and a musty odor mixed with oxidizing metal assaulted him as the doors dinged open. He coughed and waved his hand in front of his face as he exited the elevator. Rhythmic beeping, blinking red lights, and scrolling green text on black screens the only soundtrack of the dim entrance room. Dipper strolled down the aisle created by old computers from the 80’s. He swiped a finger through the dust purposefully left on them. The tourists didn’t know the old things were shells capable only of their lights and recorded messages, the real components long since destroyed. 

“Hello! And welcome to the Cellar of Secr- Oh, Hello Dipper. Long time no see.”

“Hey Larry.” Dipper waved at the wax figure’s head, wisps of breath dissipating upwards. Larry King’s head escorted him on his motorized pedestal. They had yet to discern why the wax statue remained animated without a body and during the day so long as he was in the cellar. But, it was a hit with the tourists and so mostly left alone. “Anything weird happening down here lately?” Dipper asked as he meandered around the exhibits he and the other Pines help set up a decade ago. 

The chilled basement held replicates of many real items. Artifacts two generations of twin hunters discovered over two decades. Dipper and Stan passed on the warning of bringing real or living weird into the Shack. Mounted on the walls behind glass in neat rows hung authentic and replicated cursed items. Only the dehexed items sat on display. The rest were stored in the Forest Bunker until they could be cleansed or safely destroyed.  In the bottom right corner sat skeletons modeled after real and fake supernatural creatures using ordinary animal bones. The center housed replicated alien artifacts and ship parts. The upper left held real dinos trapped in amber-the reason they kept the basement extra chilled.

Dipper was after what lay in the upper left corner. After weeks of arguing and deliberations, Ford agreed to help build the outer shell of the portal, so long as they changed the shape from a triangle to an octagon. No one argued with that.

“Besides some of the tourists and this place in general, nothing weird here for months,” Larry reported. His words lacked chilled vapors.

“Months?” He stepped over the neon yellow and black striped hazard fence. A clay caricature of a mad scientist with eight fingers on each hand stood poised to pull the lever.

“I tell ya, that t-rex winked at me.”

“But nothing’s moved, changed, activated?” Dipper stopped in front of the octagonal portal.

“Just the lights and that rex.”

Dipper didn’t reply as he rapped on the metal of the portal. A heavy, dull clang echoed through the cavern. Nothing happened. _Hm. Didn_ _’t turn into alien ship metal. Woulda rang like a brass bell._ He stepped back, rubbing his chin. A check in the back confirmed it wasn’t connected to anything. The sickly green color of the fuel tanks remained painted glass.

“Hey! Watch it!” Larry shouted when Dipper pitched a rock through the portal from behind.

Nothing seemed different about the metal structure. No glowing symbols, electric discharge, or whirling noises. Nothing. _So much for easy answers._ He kicked the base hard enough to wince. Nothing. _Shouldn_ _’t rule it out yet though._ “Larry,” Dipper walked around the front, “Keep an eye on this. It does anything; you make sure I know about it.”

“Yeah, sure. Now, what about that rex? Last thing I want is it breaking out and eating me- I mean the customers.”

 

Thump. Thump. “Still not working!” Wendy shouted.

Dipper smacked his head against the Shack again. _This was so easy to do last time!_ He twirled another glittering rainbow strand in his fingers, glaring at it as if that’d make the shield work. “Gotta be the moonstone placement. Maybe we need two separate bubbles?” A light breeze blew through the clearing as he mused. Chills raced along his skin as his jacket did nothing to block the intangible icicle fingers in the wind. _Should get some coffee or throw on a heavier coat._ Another shiver raced up his spine, raising the hair on his neck. He was on his feet looking around a heartbeat later. One hand poised to yank the baton from his belt, the other ready to defend. 

“Heh, relax dude, it’s just Eurosknighthart,” Wendy walked around the corner with a midnight blue unicorn at her side. The four-legged equine flinched away from the girl when she jabbed a thumb at it. “Saw ‘im on the way here. Asked if he’d stop by to restock our hair supply.”

Euros flipped the yellow scarf over his neck in a flourish with his teeth. “Just so happens I need a mane cut for the summer, so it was simply convenient timing. But don’t butcher it!” Dipper winced at the high-pitched voice and silvery horn glowing with every word. It hit just a little too close to another supernatural creature Dipper knew.  The unicorn stared Dipper straight in the eye but wouldn’t meet Wendy’s gaze.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry.” Wendy waved him off. She didn’t seem to notice or didn’t care when the unicorn stepped out of her reach. “Seriously dude, chill,” she pointed at Dipper, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as it escaped the braid, “Ha, you’re more high strung than Stan during tax season. Look, just finish the unicorn hair circle. I’m sure Eros here can help figure out the moonstones.” The unicorn huffed at the implication that it might not know- or about being forced to help- Dipper could never tell with them. She and the unicorn walked past him into the house, Euros swatting Dipper in the face with his tail.

Dipper glared at his retreating back before his eyes returned to the forest.  Only the leaves rustled in the breeze and a squirrel scampered through the top branches. He sighed as nothing unusual jumped out. _Keep it together Pines._ He turned around and glued another hair to the side of the building.

 

Dipper collapsed onto his bed. His watch read 23:36. Even with Euros’ help, it’d taken most of the day to activate the shield properly.  He didn't know for sure if it’d keep the current weirdness out. _But it will keep out a certain triangle. That_ _’s what’s important._  Wendy and he spent the rest of the day sifting through books and notes, as well as pulling together a loose plan for how to figure out what could be causing the anomalies and ways to deal with them.

He slapped his arm on his forehead. He really didn’t want to deal with the gnomes. However, they decided that Wendy would talk to the townspeople tomorrow to gather information about events in town and their timing. He would take the supernatural side and find the gnomes to get the same details. Worst case, he wound up in the Deep Forest again.

The coil returned to his chest as he thought about the plan. The plan he deliberately concocted to let him escape to the lake for a secret rendezvous, likely with his doom. _The longer I can keep others away, the better chance to solve it without anyone else hurt._  He sat back up, staring at his feet. _If Bill_ _’s playing me though… if this is a trap, I have to make sure the others find out and get the hell out of town._ He stood, grabbed the closest pen and twirled it while he paced. After Mabel threatened to hide all of his pens forever if he kept clicking them, he substituted with twirling. She’d begrudgingly accepted.

A small dent worn in the floor later, he figured out how to send a timed note to Mabel, Soos and Wendy, one they would receive if he didn’t cancel it before nine every night. _There. Anything happens to me, I_ _’ll be too dead for her to kill me for not telling her sooner._ He didn’t laugh at his joke. The bed creaked as he sank into it and clicked on his laptop.

_I should really set up a better plan for tomorrow. Maybe I_ _’ll get lucky and he doesn't show. No wait. That’d be worse. I’d have no idea what he’s doing. Why did I dig myself such a hole? Should have never talked to that stupid statue. Shoulda told Ford it was there and let him destroy it or contain it. I shouldn’t have- No. Should haves are stupid. Focus. Deal with it now._ Dipper took a deep breath and set to work researching and typing plans. 


	6. No Place Like Gnome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dip visits the forest again before heading towards destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my best friend Brandon for betaing this so it sparkled better. Also, apologies for tardiness. Priority was given to our Minster Bipper and Ghost Dipper cosplay for Tokyo in Tulsa this past weekend. (It was epic).  
> Also, I'd like to thank everyone that's left Kudos and Cyanide_Cipher, PCHOOOO and LenahMalone for leaving lovely comments!

Dense fog shrouded the trees from the ground to the canopy as Dipper wandered through the forest. His breath added to its opacity with every puff. Crackles and crunches punctuated his steps as he made his way through the stillness. Rabbits and deer watched in wary silence as he passed. Sleepy owls hooted their good nights as early birds woke, an unofficial changing of the guard signaling the beginning of a new day.

Dipper swigged Death Wish brand coffee from his thermos as he continued his trek. He could have driven his bike down the fine gravel path to the west. However, given he was part of the protesting group against the truck sized road the Northwests carved into the Gnome Forest, he chose the crisp, scenic walk.

Pacifica had messaged him back around four in the morning, noon for her in London. She was doing business in England, but her Gnomes should still be working in the Gnome Wine Refinery…or else.

He shook his head, still torn between impressed and unnerved at how easily she’d taken to the role of Queen of the Gnomes. He had to admit, begrudgingly and to no one around, that the Gnomes seemed happier and less disruptive with her in charge. Granted, she had set her foot down when it came to marrying them. Nevertheless, they seemed content with her direction of them, and her payments of Netflix access, fancy Hors d'oeuvres, and “collectible knick knacks”. 

A frosty breeze blew through the forest, filling his ears with chill whispers and seeking to elicit a shiver from him. He pulled his scarf higher and tighter around his face to protect his nose, the vibrant red contrasting wildly with the faded scene around him. He jammed his hands further into his coat pockets and trudged on. _You spent a month in Alaska, this is nothing!_

A short time later, with the fog impossibly thickening, Dipper pulled out the compass he father gave him on his sixteenth birthday. It was a brass antique -free of batteries and risk of electronic drain- to double check his direction. He stalled and swallowed his mouthful of coffee before he could spit it out or choke on it. Waving the instrument around, as if looking for a better signal, did not stop the needle from drifting to and fro like a drunken sailor. 

_First the Deep Forest, now the Gnome Forest. What could be causing this?_ He tried to ignore his gut’s suggestion of a certain yellow triangle as he gently placed his coffee down and pulled out an electric field detector. It clicked on but beeped at a normal rate as he strolled in a hundred meter loop.  The magnet he pulled from his pack dropped to the ground as expected and he couldn’t see anything metallic that would hamper the compass.

With no other instruments to test the area, nor obvious causes, he had no other choice but to continue onwards. His hand clenched around the Walkie Talkie in his jacket. Hopefully the solar panel he’d rigged it with, cannibalized from one of Melody’s garden lights, would be able to recharge the battery enough to get a message out should he warp again. Wendy had the other talkie, just in case. He’d learned long ago to always have a backup. A single point of failure could get you hurt or killed even on a routine hike.

Talking with the Gnomes wasn’t on the list of things he enjoyed, but they were still the best chance to learn about the happenings in the forest. They basically ran the town and forest Gossiper. Besides, word would eventually reach Wendy or Soos about his trip to the lake instead of the forest. It would raise questions he wasn’t ready to answer. But after a short meeting with the Gnomes, the simple lie of a lead at the lake would draw no suspicion.

By the time the sun was strong enough to burn away the fog, Dipper stood before the Refinery.  After finding out the Gnomes produced an amazing Chateau Red Wine, Pacifica set to make it the premiere Northwest export. Unfortunately, for it to retain its quality, it had to be made the same way the Gnomes always made it- slowly. It just allowed her to charge a ludicrous price that Dipper still couldn’t fathom people paying. Centuries of local tradition made for great advertisement, provided that nobody questioned exactly who the locals were that produced said wine.

He stooped down and knocked on the door carved into a massive Redwood with steaming pipes and smoke spilling from its tops like branches and security cameras perched like birds upon them. A few moments later, the door groaned open. Muttering spilled forth along with the productive sounds of banging, stomping and squelching. “Yeah, what do you want?” The Gnome’s gray, fluffy beard seemed to make up its body, the pointed red hat bringing his height to a respectable two feet. His graveling voice and frown set Dipper’s own mood to ‘brass tax’.

“Is Jeff here? Or someone else close to the top of the gnomarchy? Pacifica sent me.” Another lie, but the name drop cut through so much red tape and hold music that it was worth it.

The gnome’s glare dropped instantly. “Yeah, sure sure. Come in.” Heat and steam seeped out as the gnome opened the door wider in invitation.

“No thanks. I’ll wait here.” Dipper eyed the narrow entrance. There was no way his shoulders were fitting through that door. The gnome shrugged, told him to wait, and closed the door behind him as he strutted off. Dipper stood and leaned back against an old aspen as he contemplated his next move after finishing with the Gnomes. It was still early, barely nine. He could return to the Shack. Maybe grab a snack, do more research, take a nap, go for another walk. He sighed. _Keeping Bill waiting doesn’t seem like the best move, even if I didn’t give him a specific time._

“Dipper! Welcome, welcome! My name’s Ivan, I’m in charge of the plant right now. You said you’re here on M’lady Pacifica’s orders? What can I do ya for?”

Ivan wore a blue cone hat, denoting his seniority. Not that his white beard, millimeters short of tickling the ground, wouldn’t have given that away. “Nice to meet you Ivan,” Dipper held out a finger for the Gnome to shake. Being recognized made his life easier too. With pleasantries done, Dipper cut to the chase. “Pacifica heard there has been trouble in the forest lately. She wants a full report to make sure it won’t interfere with production and delivery.”

“I can assure you that nothing happening in the forest will hinder our work. We run a very tight tree and her ladyship shouldn’t worry at all. If you wish to conduct a personal inspection or -”

“No need, I just want a report of what’s been happening in the forest, even if it’s gossip.”

“Hmmm. Sure. Bit of an odd request, but who am I to judge the Queen’s orders. We have a daily incident report I can pull together and, if you give me a few days, I can have all accounts of forest happenings and council meeting minutes pulled together- since I’m on that board too.” Ivan stroked his beard proudly.

Dipper’s face lit up. “Yeah, that’d be perfect. If you could gather all that dating back to… two or three weeks ago, that’d be perfect. Would you be able to have it delivered to the Mystery Shack when it’s done?”

“Sure. Gotta couplah slackers here who could use the punish- I mean exerc- I mean, I know some volunteers who’d love to run all the way to the Shack and back for the Queen.” The Gnome pecking order was not a forgiving one. Pacifica’s introduction of corporate structure simply gave them new opportunities to reinforce the gnomarchy already in place.

“Great… thanks. I’ll expect it in a few days so I can report back to the Queen. I’m sure she’ll be grateful to affirm for herself that nothing will threaten the plant’s operations.” Dipper made to stand up again but paused. “This is important, Ivan. No one’s going to get in trouble, they can leave their accounts anonymous if they want. But I need everything the Gnomes have seen or heard about that’s odd. You guys know the forest best so I expect you know what that means. Got it?” Ivan nodded gravely, tugging on his beard thoughtfully as he assured him that he would produce the most comprehensive report possible. “Excellent.” Dipper smiled, shook hands again and stood. “Pacifica thanks you for your hard work and says she’ll be back from London soon. I will be pleased to inform her that the plant is continuing to run smoothly and efficiently in her absence.”

“Thank you Dipper! Oh! Can you ask her if she can bring back a picture of her at the Eiffel Tower? I’ve got a bet going with some of the boys.” The gnome winked at him while nudging his shin with his elbow suggestively.

Dipper withheld his cringe. “Sure!” he called back,  his hand thrown up behind him in a wave as he walked away. He heard cheering from the tree before the muffled thump of Ivan closing the door left him in comparative silence once again. Man, that was almost too easy. Looks like knowing Pacifica finally paid off. He would never let her know that.

 

Rhythmic bass and drums blasted through Dipper’s helmet as he drove.  An old punk band that Xander had turned him onto a decade ago ranted about the poor state of the world. Granted, at the time, Larsen John had been right about the dismal state of the environment and global warming, but things were better now. Today, the song felt completely incongruous amidst the chilly, oh so chilly Gravity Falls spring.  

Twenty years had been kind to the sleepy town. Between funds and projects pumped into it from the Pines, Northwest and McGuckets, the town had blossomed. It had its first small college. The library had tripled in size, focused on paranormal and archaeological research as well as mathematics and scientific advancement. History and eco-tourism thrived and the population had grown to twice the size. Granted, half of that population increase resulted from many of the tamer supernatural creatures coming out of the forest to live amiably among the people.

Now, after a decade of the town adjusting to the new normal,  Dipper could see some of the town’s more “cultural” residents out and about in the course of their lives as he drove down Main Street towards the lake. Manatours worked out at Manley Dan and Son’s Gym, fairies and gnomes helped Mrs. Lucy carry groceries while two trolls and an elf ate at Lunacy Cafe.

It was a sight Dipper loved. One he was proud to have helped make a reality. One he was determined to protect.

15:06. Dipper cut the engine to his bike in the stone parking lot of Lake Gravity Falls. Against his better judgment, Dipper delayed the meeting with his doom by wandering around the forest and interviewing other creatures he met. It didn’t yield the most useful data and as morning became afternoon, he became too fidgety to procrastinate any longer. He took a deep breath as he walked over to the bait and tackle hut. _Times like these I wish I believed in a benevolent deity to save my ass..._

At least the lake was a peaceful place to meet one’s end. Soft waves lapped against stone and sand as the waterfall produced a faint roar in the distance. Finches and falcons swooped around, searching for bugs, fish, and, in the case of the falcons, the finches themselves. Several small boats and one yacht broke the lake’s surface, the last stragglers who persisted despite dawn and dusk, the best fishing hours, being several hours gone or yet to come

Stone and soil crunched under his boots as he walked to the rental shop and rapped on the counter. Tate McGucket turned from his conversation with his daughter, Aubrey, and held up a finger. Dipper pursed his lips as he waited for them to finish an argument about her revealing attire. He seriously considered leaving money on the counter when she bent forward with a huff to demonstrate that her shirt wasn’t cut too low and all but proved her father’s point.

Finally, Tate threw an emergency rescue blanket over her and demanded she put on a top more appropriate for a fourteen year old. Dipper couldn’t -silently- agree more, and thanked the heavens when she growled and stormed from the rental hut back to their car.

“Sor’ry ‘boat that,” Tate grumbled with his old Irish accent, deep frown and head tut tutting, as he turned to his customer. “Keeds, right? Oh! It’s you, hey Dippa! ‘Eard you were back’n town.”

“Yeah, not looking forward to Mabel’s monsters turning teen if we were any predictor of the future.” Dipper laughed, rubbing his neck through the red scarf.  “But yeah. Heard you guys were having trouble. Actually, have any news about that for my notes?” Dipper fished a pen and pad from his backpack.

“Oh, um… The ‘ead’s been quiet lately. Didn’t even eat the last bit’o uhld livestock we tried to feed et. Other than that, I’ve just ‘eard some stories ‘boat small things floating or popping round.”

“Hm. What about Brey? She or her friends say anything to you?”

“Naup. You saw, we ‘aven’t been gettin’ ‘long great lately. Gonn’ sew ‘er in a nun’s outfit I swear.” He muttered.

“Yeah…” _I’m not touching that with a ten-foot titanium pole…_ , “Anyway, I need to rent a motor boat, check some leads ‘round the lake and island.”

“Yeah sure. Take numbuh three,” he waved at a red painted dingy. Dipper nodded and pulled out his wallet. “Eh, just take et. Good you do ‘round this place is payment enough.” Dipper paused then smiled. He nodded and walked to the dock. “Hey Dippa!” He stopped. “You be careful now, ya ‘ear?” Dipper threw up a hand in acknowledgment and thanks.

The old dock severely needed a fresh coat of lacquer to keep the rot at bay. It creaked and groaned as Dipper walked along its length. Boats of various shapes and sizes rolled in the gentle waves, the ropes straining to keep them in place.

The largest boat by far was The Mystery Ship, Soos’ idea to lead special night-time lake tours to help Tate and The Mystery Shack both bring in some extra money. Once they figured out the Destiny Head only woke on Full and New moons, they set up a twenty person tour boat to sail during off nights. Tate also took to feeding the thing like it was a pet- against everyone’s advice. Granted, it hadn’t eaten anyone so Dipper didn’t see the harm in it, yet.

A white, sloppily painted 3 marked a red dingy close to The Mystery Ship. It rocked dangerously as Dipper hopped in and stowed his backpack in the sealed cooler in front. The old combustion engine roared into life on the fourth yank. A cloud of exhaust billowed up, its gasoline stench a fossil of an era finally almost dead. Throttle open, he zoomed onto the lake. 

Water wasn’t his favorite element anymore, not with two merfolk incidents, three near drownings, and one water-boarding session. However, the gentle rocking of the boat over wave crests and ripples, the fresh rain smell no fabric softener could mimic, and the warm sun brought a soft smile to his lips.

The bright sun twinkled across a blue lake that couldn’t have sparkled more had Mabel herself decided to decorate it. He pulled his hat down over his eyes, but it did nothing to block the light from below. The chill spring wind whipped at his face, stinging his nose. He pulled his scarf up higher, the present from Mabel creating a barrier against the light and the cold. 

_Maybe I should have risked wearing my glasses, or borrowed a Mystery Shack pair._   He snickered. _Yeah, Bill’ll take me seriously with a cheap pair of question mark shaped sunglasses._ He tugged his hat again, sobering. He wore the Triforce hat again, against his first impulse to burn it. A little extra buttering up couldn’t hurt.

His hand clenched tighter on the throttle as he swerved around Scuttlebutt Island. For the umpteenth time, he wondered why he was doing this. Why he was willingly going to meet the being that brought him closest to death multiple times. The being that had haunted him in nightmares and dark corners for years after. _Because I said I would, and standing him up, memories or not, is probably a horrible idea. And it’s my fault he’s free in the first place._ He reminded himself just as many times.

He had tried to convince himself to meet with Bill but explain he couldn’t help him, to walk away and never look back. He wanted desperately to run away from the situation, but the combined weight of logic and paranoia squashed the small hope of an escape from his dilemma. Keeping an eye on the triangle was the least he could do after finding him. After freeing him. Helping him was the best option to avoid raising suspicion. Furthermore, if he abandoned Bill to figure things out on his own, the demon would be even less inclined to leave the town standing.

_Best option for now._ Dipper’s pulse and breathing sped up regardless as the waterfall came into view. He took a few deep breaths. His emergency recording came to mind along with Mabel. He pictured her and the kids’ smiles as he opened the throttle and shot forward fast enough to break through the barrier of the waterfall.          

 


	7. Dorito tested for quality assurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper finally makes it to the cave for his date with a Dorito-Doom-Destiny!!  
> (So much for keeping these chapters at a steady 3k words

The dingy tore through the fountain and slammed into the sandbank at the back of the cave. Dipper’s hands stung in complaint when he lost his grip on the tiller and crashed onto the cooler. He sputtered as he peeled himself from the boat while the engine choked and died.

Soaked hair and clothes clung to him like a second skin. He sighed, teeth starting to chatter, and untangled the scarf from his neck.  It shimmered and stiffened in his hand when he pushed an embedded button in the corner. Water beaded and dropped into the lake as the scarf became hydrophobic. He carefully stepped from the moored boat and switched the scarf to hydrophilic. Using it as a towel, he dried himself before switching it once more and rewrapping it around his neck.

As dry as he could be, he reached into the cooler to retrieve his bookbag. The cooler performed perfectly and kept the bag clean and dry, if a little fishy smelling. He rubbed his clammy hands together as he looked around the old cave. After the sparkling light of the sun on the lake, the cave was nearly pitch dark. He reached up to change the view setting on his glasses to night vision, momentarily confused when his hand only brushed damp hair. _Oh yeah._ He chuckled. Old habits die hard. He clenched his eyes shut, willing his vision to adjust faster to the cascading light filtering into the cave with the roar accompanied by thousands of gallons of falling water..  

The sand was hard under his boots, yet gave enough to leave a solid impression of his soles in the fine grains. A clatter startled him as his foot connected with a dented, empty can of Pitt Cola. Along the waterline, where wet sand turned dry or met stone, bottles, cans and wrappers littered the ground. Bottles of weak and strong liquor alike lined the steep, slippery slope of rock outcropping. His eyes trailed up along the walls covered in smeared graffiti tags. _Must be old trash and tags since the town isn_ _’t in a panic,_ Dipper tried to reason, but his throat still dried. He swallowed and shook his head. “Speaking of which, where is he?” He readjusted his bag, looking around. The cave held the same unusual static charge as the Deep Forest before he met Bill, yet the other was missing.

Thwack! Dipper gasped and grabbed his head. The small, round assailant rolled to a stop by his foot. Another pebble stung his arm. “Ow, dammit!” He turned around to face his attacker. Nothing. The cave was as empty as when he arrived. His baffled expression returned to chagrin as another pebble smacked his forehead. He followed its trajectory.

Squinting and stepping to the left, he could barely discern a thin line and movement out of place in the cave.  “Bill?” He started walking up the embankment and cliff edge. The line twisted towards him, becoming the unmistakable, yellow triangle.  Dipper’s frown turned into a scowl. “Bill, you don’t throw rocks at—”

“You lied to me.”

The rest of Dipper’s chastisement caught in his throat. He clamped his mouth shut, wary expression damming the panic that tried to flood his system. _What_ _’s he talking about? What’s he know, did he remember something? This was a trap. What if he’s lying, trying to bait me. Shit, he’s watching me._

He stopped a few feet from Bill, hand on hip. “Lied about what Bill?” He forced his voice to stay neutral. He’d been heavily interrogated a dozen times before. He could handle Bill. _Keep your head clear._

The cave was silent save for the rumbling falls. Dipper opened his mouth to ask again when his own voice beat him to it. “AUGH! Holy crap! B-Bill?  Wait. But, you’re a… huh. Heh. Here I was, beginning to think I’d never see you again. -Something plopped to the ground- Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Just when I was beginning to doubt it ever happened too.

“Ya know, nobody talks about it. Nobody acknowledges it. No one will listen, or help me understand. Mabel just wants to forget about it, my parents don’t believe it, and everyone here ignores it.”

In the cave, Dipper’s palms grew clammy, his heart speeding, as fifteen year old him echoed around him. Bill flickered again, his eye locked on Dipper.

“You got what you deserved you know. Although…Without you here, Gravity Falls is almost boring. Not sure what that says about me. To want the adventure ‘n danger back,” seventeen-year-old Dipper grumbled.

Present Dipper’s throat was too dry to swallow.

“Feels like it was a lifetime ago, not just seven years. …But it’s time to let summer go I guess. Time to be an adult.” The audio rustled as college bound Dipper stood and pulled his on backpack. “I just came to say bye Bill. And… Thanks for listening. I’m sure some of it was agonizing, but thanks for not being a jerk about it. I don’t know when, but I’ll be sure to say hi when I’m back in the Falls again.” A beat passed. “Pfft. I’m so used to it with people. Knowing how bizarre you were though, shaking your hand would bring you back.  Heh. Well, bye bill. Stay solid! No wait, pretend I didn’t say that.” The audio faded, leaving Dipper cringing at his past self and avoiding the triangle’s glare

“There’s a few more if you need me to go on,” Bill threatened as his body flickered again.

“NO,” Dipper’s hands flew up like a guilty criminal.

The steady crash of the waterfall roared around the cavern, desperately trying to drown the hostility inside it. Bill spoke first, but his smug hum and look did nothing to break the tension. “Took me a while to realize that was you.” His hands slammed on to his sides, his sclera blackened. “So, what do you say ‘Dipper’, still don’t know what happened to me, that I just ‘left’?

Had Dipper been fifteen or even twenty, he might have panicked. However, life had thrown enough experience at him to skip that and go straight to planning and damage control, on how to turn a situation to his favor. Bill gave him precious few seconds as he drifted closer, yellow bricks turning red. He grit his teeth, fist clenched against the energy building through the cave. Amongst the frantic mental swearing, and brainstorming, concern about water and electricity flickered through his mind as he stared down his impending doom.

Dipper’s foot slid back, hand instinctively reaching for his baton as Bill’s size increased, color bleeding further from bright scarlet to deep crimson. "All of that time, years you spent visiting, and you knew how to bring me back yet never did! Why? Why didn’t you shake my hand, Dipper? WHY DID YOU JUST LEAVE ME THERE ALONE?" The cavern trembled with Bill’s rage, his voice distorted like fractured glass. "Is that what a friend is to you? What friends do?"

The response came hard and fast. “We are NOT friends Bill.” The triangle stopped. His eye furrowed but in a manner that left enough space for Dipper to elaborate. The air thrummed, almost vibrating, as the human set his jaw and steadied his stance. He wasn’t twelve anymore. He wouldn’t let a flying Dorito intimidate him again. Kill him, maybe. But he’d go down with his dignity.

“I said we worked together. But you screwed me over plenty. If you had your memories, I’m sure you’d say the same.” Bill’s eye narrowed further, his hands clenching. Dipper’s skin prickled as if standing next to a downed power line. _Shit, different tactic._ “Look,” Dipper put his hands together, “Our mysteries were dangerous sometimes-”

“You left me to die then. Yeah that is screwing-”

“No! Fuck, let me finish. I visit Gravity Falls. I don’t live here. I came back one summer and the statue was all I could find of you. I figured something finally got you and it was your body or something. I was upset, but there wasn’t anything I could do. So I just talked to your statue like people do headstones. I thought you were dead. I didn’t actually think anything would change that.” Dipper bit his lip, rubbing his neck. Though his scowl remained, Bill’s color and size slowly reverted to normal. _Good, keep it vague yet heart wrenching._

Dipper looked away, putting on his best forlorn expression -drama class with Mabel hopefully paying off-. “Eventually, I had to leave for college on the East Coast. I had to move on and stop thinking you might return. Hell. Maybe I didn’t shake your hand cuz if I did and nothing happened, that’d be it. You’d be gone.” Dipper clamped his mouth shut, practically hearing Grunkle Stan shaking his head and grumbling about laying it on too thick. Mabel and Stan inherited the acting genes.

“That’s why you ran the other day.”

“Ha. Yeah,” his shoulders bobbed, “Ever hear the phrase, ‘look like you’ve seen a ghost?’” The cave’s casual, wet atmosphere returned as Bill hummed, his bricks glowing pale golden yellow.

Dipper held his breath and ground as the triangle drifted past him. Despite the wide birth between them and Bill looking away, the human felt no less scrutinized, as if thousands of invisible eyes glared at him from every direction. Just as his lungs began to burn and his eyes demanded a blink, Bill paused his stroll-like descent down the ramp.

“Something bothers me about your story, 'Dipper'." Said human tried his best not to stiffen or reply, to let his mind replay the conversation looking for mistakes. Whether for intimidation or dramatic effect, the triangle’s method to turn gave Dipper an instant headache.

His body splintered into individual bricks that all swiveled like turning a shirt right side out. Bill’s eye rested on Dipper, narrowed, oblivious to the human’s sudden nausea. “If we aren’t friends, then why are you helping me? Why should I trust you? You could be lying and I—,”

Dipper shook his head, shoving aside the queasiness and mental notes he started taking. “Hey, man. You asked me to help you. If you don’t want it anymore, I’ll leave and—,”

“No!” Bill’s arms and legs shot out, his eye wide. He seemed to remember himself, arms crossing and glaring at the wall. “I just… If I find out you’re lying to me.” His glare returned to Dipper.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll destroy me.” He waved his hand in the best nonchalance he could manage, as if it was a recurring threat Bill used without ever making good on it. He thought for sure his thrashing heartbeat would give him away.

Bill’s eye moved slowly, carefully observing Dipper. Thankfully, spray from the waterfall to his face masked the sweat beading on his brow. “I was going to say I’d drop you down that ravine from the other day and let nature take its course, but destroy works too.”

Dipper watched as the triangle silently drifted further down the slope, light from the waterfall glistening across his bricks. He let out a sigh he hoped the fall hid, his shoulders slumping a moment. _Not how I expected this to go, but I_ _’m still breathing. So…success? But, now what am I supposed to do with him? How am I supposed to help him without bringing ‘destroy everything’ Bill back?_ The answer remained as unclear as the first time he’d asked.

Bill stopped his descent again to pick up a crushed can with his magic. “If you don’t live here, then why are you back?” He twisted and turned the contorted aluminum surrounded in red energy before dropping it.

The neutral action held a more foreboding sentiment to Dipper as he scrambled for an answer. He squashed the impulse to lie about hearing Bill returned and contradicting the tale he’d already spun. Especially when a better idea dawned on him. He smirked, “I just so happen to have another mystery that needs to be solved. And you said you could use a favor.”

A beat passed as Bill studied him. Recognition widened his eye before a mischievous glint filled it and pulled up into his version of a smirk. “Why Dipper, are you suggesting that we team up like old times?”

 _I can_ _’t believe I’m about to say this. But it’s almost too perfect not to…_ “Seems I am,” _until this blows up horribly_ _‘cuz it’s still Bill, memories or not._

“Excellent! Well then, it’s good to be back… partner. Should we shake on it?” Bill extended his hand, the quirky smile still in his eye.

“Yea-no.” _Not for all the secrets of the universe._ “How about a fist bump instead?” Dipper made a fist and held it out, heedless of the 80’s being long past. The floating triangle looked at it as if it’d bite him before he made his own fist and tentatively held it out too.  Dipper bumped fists and laughed when Bill whipped his hand back as if it’d been slapped.

Chill mist swirled through the cave as wind played with the waterfall. Dipper zipped his jacket in a vain attempt to retain body heat. He shivered nonetheless as he looked around the damp cave for a clean and remotely dry spot to sit.

“You picked a terrible meeting spot,” Bill muttered as he floated behind the human, watching his every move. Dipper silently agreed as he conceded defeat, arranged his hydrophobic scarf on the cold stone floor and sat on it. Bill mimicked his crossed legged posture while hovering at face level.

Dipper’s skin prickled and a tingle crept along his spine as he rummaged through his backpack. It wasn’t painful, or inherently unpleasant, but it was the same sensation as back in the forest when Bill first appeared. _Must be from some energy, a magnetic field that he emits perhaps. Great, watch me get cancer from sitting near him._ He glanced at the triangle, trying to be subtle. Bill silently hovered, a blank, bored expression in his eye, but his fingers slowly drummed where his legs curved.

The notebook Dipper retrieved looked as if he’d tried to smother it with graphite and ink. Each page curled at the edges under the weight of thoughts and observations bestowed upon them. He paused on a page filled with notes about Bill from their time together in the forest. How he seemed to lack an audible heartbeat, didn’t breathe, or twitch. He was as motionless as the statue Dipper talked to until he consciously decided to move.

There was no ‘floating noise’ that years of binging anime had told Dipper to expect to accompany Bill’s hovering. _This is the real world, Dipper, not a cartoon._ The only thing that denoted his presence and liveliness when out of sight was the unknown energy he emitted.

“SO!” Dipper jerked at the sudden interruption as he flipped through pages, “When are we gonna get my memories back? Fix whatever’s wrong with me?” Bill rubbed his hands together.

Dipper sighed as he turned another page. “Just remember, I told you I’m not a psychology expert. Even then, amnesia is still barely understood. So I make no promises about your results.”

Bill glared at a graffiti spattered wall. “Don’t know why I’m bothering with you.”

 _Feeling_ _’s mutual._ He kept the thought to himself as he found the page he wanted. “Anyway. Today we’re going to run some tests I researched to get a baseline of where you’re at. From there, I can decide which methods are the best to use. If I can contact a reliable psychologist or neurologist, I’ll see if they can better direct me.” Dipper winced as Bill hummed a screeching noise that brought to mind a screw drilled past its limit.

 _Why do I feel like Lovecraft knew Bill?_ “Alright,” he cleared his throat, “So, first thing is to determine your variety of amnesia.” He started twirling his pen. “Gonna be tricky since most types are incident contingent, but we don’t know what happened to you.” He looked at Bill for confirmation. Bill’s arms slid up and down his sides in what he took to be a shrug.

For a moment, Dipper wished he’d brought his glasses so he could record the movement. As simple as it was, something about it felt surreal. It was as if reality knew Bill was too strange to be there and it shied away from him, or was it more the way gravity warped around black holes?  Dipper shook his head, a twinge between his eyes. _I_ _’m gonna have a whole dictionary of new descriptive terms and expressions by the time I’m done working with him._ He shushed his inner nerd.

“So. Recap: you can’t remember anything about yourself. Not your name, your age, place of birth, anything you did or said before you woke up as a statue, nothing.” Bill hummed like a swarm of locusts, his hand clenching against his knees. “But, you remember tons of random things like world history, science, and math. I assume you didn’t wake up confused about your body, like how you levitate or talk with no mouth.”

“Do too have a mouth!” Bill pointed at his eye as Dipper looked up from his notes again. One moment it was a large, bulbous eye, the next, it was a wicked grinning mouth full of bear trap style teeth. “See?” Dipper nodded, his own mouth agape. He swore the eye was still there, watching him behind the teeth. A tremor prickled down his spine, like a primal human instinct to seeing something so perverse.

“Can you eat like that?” Dipper tipped his pen at Bill’s eye mouth.

“Sure! I think so. Why not?” Bill jammed his hands to his side angles. Dipper hummed and dug through his backpack, his inner scientist taking control. He tossed a Granny Smith up to Bill. The triangle reached and missed it completely. Dipper swiped it from the air before it splattered on the ground and handed it to the frowning triangle with a small apology.

The apple dallied in front of Bill’s eye mouth. The moment passed. Bill cleaved the apple in half with his teeth and swallowed without chewing. He did the same to the other half and posed with hands on side and triumphant grin.

“That…ok. Huh.” _Likely lacks depth perception -failed to catch apple tossed to him. Large bites, swallows whole. No visible sign of throat or movement of food. Apple chunks thicker than body yet showed no discomfort or difficulty with eating. Where does the food go? How is it processed? Diet limited? What happens if he eats bad food?_ He cringed at the thought of vomit touching the mouth eye.

“I fail to see how this helps me get my memory back,” Bill commented as his eye blinked back to normal.

Dipper winced, rolling his pen faster through his fingers and berating his distraction. _Stop trying to blow your cover._ He bit his lip to keep from chuckling. _Undercover Dipper Pines_ _… that’s exactly what this feels like. Not exactly the noir spy thrillers Xander likes, but close enough._ His hand moved unconsciously to adjust his glasses as he finished writing his notes. His finger pointlessly brushed up his nose.

Bill snapped his fingers, drawing Dipper’s attention as the other pointed at him. “That’s what looked off about you…Didn’t you have glasses in the forest?” Bill demanded, eye narrowed as he rounded his fingers over his own eye in a poor charade of spectacles.

The twirling pen stopped, “Yeah, you fried them, remember? Didn’t need you ruining my other pair, so contacts it is.” Dipper pointed at his eyes with the pen. Bill humphed, muttering how he’d already apologized.

The scowl slipped from Dipper’s mouth a moment later. “You did act surprised, like it was an accident. Do you not know how to control your powers, what powers you have, or what you can do with them?” Dipper flipped to a clean page, pen poised.

“Of course I know!”

“Lying won’t help me help you.”

Bill’s stubborn refusal fizzled to a pout. “Fine.” Cross armed and looking everywhere but at the other, “Besides levitation, plus size and color shifting, what could I do?”

The human opened and snapped his mouth shut, trying to find a way out of a subject he’d wanted to avoid. _Walked right into that one_ _…_ “Um, well… Actually, you didn’t use most of your powers around me, so I can’t give you a good list.” _Not completely untrue._

“But your levitation is part of your telekinesis,” he blurted when Bill’s eye narrowed. _Shit._ Dipper shut his mouth before he could give the triangle any ideas of how to use the, arguably, most powerful and versatile ability comic books ever dreamed up.  _Ya couldn_ _’t just go with pyro to burn the forest down, no. You had to go with the stronger ability!_

“Hm, interesting.” Dipper’s jaw tensed further as Bill’s body flashed through images and bits of text while he rubbed under his eye. The whirlwind suddenly froze. An image of 1980’s Professor Xavier superimposed over the bricks. Bill’s form flickered and returned to normal. “What were we talking about?”

Dipper stared at him dumbly. “Uh… your powers?”

“Right!” Bill smacked his fist to his palm, “What kinds do I have besides levitation, plus size and color shifting?” He made no mention of the telekinesis, simply waited for Dipper expectantly. Dipper experimentally repeated about the telekinesis, only for the same thing to happen two more times.

“So, what were we talking about?”

 _How does he not remember, or notice the malfunction?_ He scrawled the notes onto the paper. _It_ _’s not uncommon for symptoms of both_ _Anterograde and Retrograde to present simultaneously, but that fast?_ “Anyway… let’s try something else. I’m going to run through a few languages and you respond.”

“Why?”

“Testing your implicit memory. What you know without remembering how or when you learned it. The net said shoe tying is a good first test but,” he pointed at Bill’s bendy, pencil-thin black legs and feet. The triangle hummed a garble of insect chirps.

Dipper proceeded with standard greetings in a dozen different languages, including French, Arabic, Spanish, German, Italian, Mandarin, Russian and three Latin dialects. Dipper wasn’t fluent in all of them, but enough to get around. Bill responded flawlessly, with side helpings of sarcastic banter.

The two shared a chuckle as Dipper recited a German joke he’d learned from some dwarfs while exploring the Black Forest. Bill’s joke fell flat, as Dipper didn’t understand third century Vietnamese.

Dipper took notes as Bill decided to push the language test, rattling off dozens more the human could only guess. He stopped Bill once the languages switched from human to nails in blenders and what he imagined supernova explosions might sound like.

“What in the world was that?” He demanded, rubbing his pounding temples.

“Wasn’t. Ever heard of dimension 354-5? Real fun, know how to party.”

“Don’t think I ever want to again.” He scribbled another note, vision swimming. “Looks like I was right to figure languages would be easy. Though, I shouldn’t be surprised you know about other dimensions. You’ve been around for a trillion years or something,” he muttered, the pen still laying down ink. Bill flickered again a second later before asking Dipper what he’d said only moments before. The man stopped his pen, brows scrunched.

 _Is he capable of remembering anything or did Gucket_ _’s gun do permanent damage?_ “Bill?” The triangle looked at him, brow quirked. _He remembers his name though_ _…_ “I’m going to list three things. I want you to repeat them back after ten seconds.”

“It’s the past I’m trying to remember, Dipper.” He could almost taste the condescension in Bill’s voice.

“Humor me.” Dipper chewed on his pen as he thought, and worried. “Canary. Bubble gum.…Nightmare Realm.”

Bill managed a noseless snort and wrapped his arms around his midsection, “One of those is-is-is.” He lost color completely, frame disfiguring like a horrible Sims glitch. Dipper jerked back as Bill dropped flat to the ground. He could do nothing but maul his pen as Bill lay glitching and fizzing for almost a minute. Sweat shone along his skin as the cave began to bake, as if a micro sun burst into life directly in front of him. Finally, Bill pushed himself up, one hand holding his hat. He looked about to be sick, with faded pastel bricks, and unfocused eye.

“Bill…?”

“Shhh…” The ‘skin’ around the triangle’s eye squished forwards into something resembling lips which he put against his finger. Dipper could do nothing but blink at that as Bill’s color returned and he lifted back into the air. He shook himself as if to dislodge water while the cave’s temperature dropped. “Wow, that wasn’t fun. Why were we talking about canaries and gum?”

“Just… just another test.”

“Yeah, let’s not do another one like that,” Bill quipped with a shiver that made each of his bricks wobble precariously. Dipper scrambled to record as much detail as possible.

 _It_ _’s like something won’t allow him to remember anything concerning himself, and some triggers produce a more violent reaction than others._

“So! What’s wrong with me doc?” Bill drifted closer, trying to peek at the notes.

Dipper slapped the book closed, earning a glare from the other. “Best I can figure; Selective Amnesia. Anything concerning yourself, you’re incapable of remembering.”

“Selective? Incapable?”

“Could be a curse or some kind of… brain damage. I’ll have to do more research.” Pointing out the lapses seemed like a bad idea so soon into the process. He didn't need a hopeless triangle moping about with powers he couldn't control.

“Great. How long will that take?” Bill crossed his arms, foot tapping the air. “Oh! Here’s an idea,” he pointed at the ceiling, “Why don’t you just tell me what you know about me instead of asking all these dumb questions?

“Let’s start with my friends or family? I mean, there have to be others like me, right? There are symbols that look like me all over this world.” Bill pointed to himself as the eye of Horus, Eye of providence, Lithuanian coat of arms, Ukrainian currency, the black pyramid of Ecuador, and a half dozen other eye triangles on sculptures and architecture around the world flashed across his surface. “One of them’s gotta know me and can help me.” He looked back to Dipper, “Think you can help me find them?”

“Bill… I don’t know…” he mumbled, while rubbing his neck and processing through the terror of multiple Bill Cipher entities. According to Great Uncle Ford, the wide spread imagery was a result of Bill’s long term tampering with humanity and their dimension. Both options were equally horrifying.

Sparks raced up Dipper’s back, making his hair stand on edge. The air sizzled and hummed. “For someone who claims we worked together, you don’t know anything about me.” Dipper’s heart rate tripled as Bill transitioned from yellow to red.

“Bill, calm your shit.”

The triangle stalled as if he’d been slapped. Dipper, heart pounding at critical rate, stood and squared his shoulders. “I told you we were partners, not friends. We didn’t play twenty questions like this, or meet your parents. We didn’t hangout at bars together with your friends.

“We worked together. Cut n’ dry professional. That’s how you wanted it cuz you liked your privacy. You thought being mysterious made you cool. It was honestly annoying, but whatever. So don’t get red with me when it’s your fault I know next to nothing about you.”

He could practically feel his drama club teacher, Mr. Leochovitz, patting him on the back as he stared Bill down. Granted, it didn’t make his character more likable, but it meant fewer lies he had to keep straight.

“Then what’s the point of working with you now?” Bill mumbled as he crossed his arms, hovering slightly lower than Dipper without looking at him. He retained his red hue, but the cave lost its thrum.

“Because I’m the only one around here that knows even a little about you.” _Whelp, there goes that easy out._ Dipper crossed his arms. _If I bail, he_ _’ll just latch on to someone else._ He shifted from one foot to the other as Bill silently returned to yellow.

“Fine,” he eventually muttered, “What’s the mystery you came back here for? Maybe working a case will jog my memory.” He didn’t look thrilled, but Dipper didn’t care. They were moving into territory he knew.

-KKKKTZZ- “Dipper! Hey, Dip! Come in Dude!” Wendy’s voice echoed through the cave as Dipper opened his mouth to speak.

“Wendy?” His voice cracked like he was fifteen again as his head whipped back to his bag. He yanked the walkie-talkie from the side pocket. Thumb depressed the talk button and he repeated his question without the puberty slip.

“Hey! There you are. Your phone dead? Been trying to call ya for the last hour man. Where ya been? Aubrey said she saw you at the lake. What’re ya doing there? I’m ten minutes out if you want me to meet up with you.”

“No! No, it’s fine,” he glanced at Bill whose brow furrowed, “I was just checking a lead. I’m done now though. Meet me at Greasy’s?” His thumb let off the talk button as Bill shouted.

“WHAT?” his voice echoed around the cave louder than any human’s could, “You’re leaving already? We’ve barely started!” Bill jumped in front of Dipper’s face, eye wide, arms splayed.

Dipper jerked back, frowning at the triangle's proximity. “I need to meet with her,” he pushed Bill away as the energy he emitted tickled his nose, “to discu-ouch!” He yanked his hand from the bricks lining the bottom half of Bill’s surface.

“Serves you right,” Bill huffed, “Leaving me already when we haven’t made any progress.”

Dipper ignored him in favor of the sensation. It wasn’t a burn like from fire, but a tingling -somewhere between icy toes in warm water and sunburn in a hot shower- that spread from fingertips down his palm and stopped at his wrist. It was strange and startling more than painful. He took mental note of it without letting the academic in him take over.

“Look, I know we’ve only been here two hours-,”

“I’ve been here two days waiting for you, and for nothing!”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But right now I need to meet with Wendy. I’ll be back tomorrow, promise. I’ll have more data to crunch with you concerning the mystery and do more research on your amnesia. We have plenty of time to work on both.”

“Can’t you meet her later?”

“No. She’ll want to know why and the town’s just not ready to know you’re back. I’m used to weird things like people coming back from the dead and you saw how I reacted.”

“Alright, alright. Sheesh. Stupid closed minded-,” Bill cut himself off mid eye-roll, “What am I supposed to do until you come back?”

“Oh, um… oh yeah!” Dipper rooted through his backpack and produced a massive binder. “This has tons of questions and potential treatments I printed out from amnesia sites. See what you can answer and we’ll work on the gaps and treatments when I return.” He handed it to Bill who sank an inch as he took it.

The triangle glared at the binder as he sifted through it. “This is stupid.”

“Dude, you there? Come in!” The talkie garbled back to life before Dipper could respond.

He raised a brow at Bill who huffed but drifted off with the binder. “Yeah. I’m here. It’s cool if we meet at Greasy’s? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Yeah, we’re good. Just hurry. I scheduled a mane taming session with Tambry at six.”

“K. I’ll be there. And don’t let her dye it purple again. Was not your color.”

“Yeah yeah Mr. Skinny Jeans. Wendy out.” Dipper groaned at the mention of his regretful high school years. He tossed the talkie and notebooks into his backpack as the line silenced. A stretched pop of his back and he grabbed the bag from the ground. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Ok Bill? Bill?” The dingy wobbled as he tossed his bag into the cooler and looked around. The cave was silent beyond thundering water.

 _Where_ _’d he go? Is he mad at me for leaving?_ He pursed his lips. _Seriously? Trillion-year-old being and you_ _’re resorting to pouting and silent treatment for not getting your way. Whatever._ He threw his arms down, done with Bill’s issues for the day. He had places to be and hopped in the boat. Another four yanks on the cord and he zipped out of the cave. The fall drenched him again as a parting present. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my followers and those who have left comments. Regretfully, I am starting a full time job next week (and my buffer is basically depleted cuz writing is harder than posting). So, in true Gravity Falls fashion, updates are gonna be slower and more sporadic to maintain quality -hopefully-. As I said, I have every intention to complete this thing cuz I've already invested too much time planning to not see it through. SO please, bear with me!  
> P.S To make up for lack of regular updates, I could post a separate Dicipher series that I've drawn. It's a couple of comics -with way too many more to be drawn- that plays with the idea of Bill treating Dipper like his pet. If there's interest in that, I'll be happy to post those.


	8. Hot Winter Sauce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper has his meeting with Wendy and gathers new intel.

Dipper’s mind whirled faster than the blades on the boat’s motor. He clenched his jaw against the crisp air as it rushed past him, pulling at his soaked clothes. shivers raced up his spine.

_Shit. That was worse than the first time the Apostles of Nergal caught me._ He could almost picture fifteen year old him trembling in a locked cage yet still nodding in agreement. He chewed his lip as he further opened the throttle. _No, it’s okay for now. I have my story and he bought it. Now I just need to flesh it out and keep it straight._

Dipper’s time in interrogation chairs -sometimes with a side of ‘heavy handed’ techniques- taught him how to think on the fly. Nevertheless, with Bill, it’d be different. Not because Bill honestly terrified him, Amnesia or not, but because of the long exposure this sort of operation would demand.

So far, keeping things vague and tweaking the truth worked. But eventually, Bill would start asking personal questions. Ones that anyone with an actual history would be able to answer without thinking about it.

_I have to remember what all I told his statue over the years too. He clearly remembers verbatim, so I can’t contradict myself._ Dipper spent the rest of the trip back to shore mentally berating and reprimanding himself for yet another horrible lapse in judgment when it came to the supernatural. He should have known that Bill, of all beings, would have found a way to return.

 

Jaw muscles ached from clenched teeth in an effort not to chatter from cold by the time he pulled into Greasy’s parking lot. Lard, fries and meat aromas met him as he parked and removed his helmet.  Overall, the restaurant’s appearance had changed little since his childhood. It’d been brought up to code, fresh paint, and the equipment modernized up to the current decade. They weren’t the newest on the market because Lazy Susan still didn’t know what a smartphone was and her trying to sync the stove with one gave everyone nightmares. Still, nothing was catching fire on a weekly basis.

Heads turned as the door jingled with his entrance. A round of cheers greeted him. A smirk and dusted blush brightened his face as ten or so people acknowledged him in some form or another. It was embarrassing when random fans of his Youtube channel recognized him on the street and ran up to chat or ask for autographs.

Cheers and hellos from friends and people he’d known since childhood felt like home. He returned the greetings as he walked down the aisle of booths to the one in which Wendy sat. He slid in across from her, dropping his backpack next to him. Another chill shot up his spine. He ignored it and sighed as his rump sank into the seat. Sitting on real cushions always felt blissful after bike and stones.

Wendy laughed as she looked him over. “Dude, you’re soaked! The merfolk still have it out for you from the wedding disaster?”

Dipper chuckled as genuinely as he could. Oh sure, the town loved to recount the time he’d hilariously and unknowingly lead a mermaid on while studying her pod for a few weeks. He’d been seventeen and not thinking of merfolk courting customs until her pod started blowing the wedding conchs and he’d had to let Sealenica down gently. The pod hadn’t taken it well and harassed him every chance presented for ten years afterwards.

Tammy, the young waitress with legs that went for days and new to town poured him a steaming cup of coffee. She left with a wink he barely registered as he embraced the hot mug in his hands as if it’d save his life.

“Surprisingly, they didn’t bother me this time.” True, and left fewer false witnesses to his day’s activities. “But, I guess the Gobblewonker was feeling energetic, or has it out for me now too, and knocked me out of the boat. Just glad it didn’t tip the whole thing.”

Wendy snorted, “Knowin’ your luck, you cruised through his lunch. You sure your supernatural expertise isn’t just masterful aggroing?”

“Hey, the Dryads and manatuars love me!” He downed the rest of his coffee, heedless of the burn.

Wendy snickered again as she bit into her sandwich. “Anyway,” she said with her mouth half-full, “What’d the Gnomes say that took you to the lake?”

“The Gnomes said they saw something strange there, glowing round the island or something. They promised me a report of other forest incidents in a few days, so I drove over to check out the lake.” Wendy hummed as he held his cup up for Tammy to refill.  “Didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, so I’ll loop around tomorrow.” The coil reemerged in his chest, squeezing tighter as she didn’t question him. _It’s better this way,_ he reminded himself again. He glanced at Wendy as he sipped the refilled mug, “Was your hunt more productive?”

Wendy shrugged in her casual way and popped another fry in her mouth. She pushed her plate with half a toasted ham and cheese on rye over to him. “Can’t live on coffee alone, man.”

Dipper grabbed the plate with a smile. He wasn’t about to tell her he was still full from breakfast.  The Hot Winter sauce Wendy became addicted to during her time in Portland bit at his tongue as he nibbled the sandwich. It ruined the meal, but he ate it anyway.  The sweet, fruity, almost funky taste brought him back to cool summer days, their hands and feet tangled together, her lips… He coughed and cleared his throat.

 “Ha, still too hot for ya, eh?”

Dipper nodded. The blush was just from the sauce, nothing else.

“Anyway, what’d you find out?” He leaned closer across the table, imitating her own conspiratorial gesture.

“A whole lotta zip,” she whispered. The other frowned, brow quirked. She leaned back. “Ok, maybe not ‘nothing’, but hardly anything worthwhile. Thanks to you Pines, this town is so full of weird that hardly anyone notices extra weird stuff. I couldn’t even dumb it down enough for some of them, like Toby or Dad, when asking if they’d seen floating stuff or things moving around.

“Ugh,” she slammed her fist on the table, “Remind me to punch one of the old Blind Eye members again for scrambling everyone’s brains so bad.” She rubbed her hands over her face as the diner chatter dimmed for a moment before resuming.

Dipper snorted and agreed. “I expected as much truthfully. Guess it’s better they’re used to it now rather than always freaking out.” Wendy nodded in her hands and leaned back, lounging against the backrest of the booth. “What about the kids? Heard the high school had some instances.”

“Yeah, that’s where I pulled the most information after Mayhu chewed me out for taking leave only to come back. She chilled when I told her I was helping you. Sent out a PA over the Comm. Couple kids came to the office to report paper clips hovering, lights flickering. One said Mr. Swinny’s coffee mug popped from his desk to Christina’s clear across the room.”

Dipper nodded, thumbing at his mug while he made a mental map of the incidents. _There really doesn’t seem to be a pattern. I’ll check with McGucket next, see if he knows anything._ He tuned back in when he realized Wendy was still talking.

“…Eevee found me as I was leaving. Said she wasn’t sure if it counted, but she, Brey and Andy woke up in the woods a few weeks ago. They were going there for a reason but she couldn’t remember when they woke up. So they left. Kinda sounds like what happened to us. Though, I don’t recall memory loss. Plus, you and I landed in different spots.”

Coffee swirled gently in the mug as he mulled over Wendy’s report. The red head munched another fry. “We don’t know enough to determine which is the norm for the teleportation. We would almost have to go through it a few more times to find consistencies.”

“Yeah- pass dude. Next time might land us who knows where. And how painful it was that first time, it might kill us a second.”

Dipper hummed in agreement. Nevertheless, without more data, more tests, they couldn’t find a pattern. Without a pattern, they couldn’t discern why it started, where it originated, or how to stop it. Something else bothered Dipper about Brey’s story. The memory loss struck a chord. _But it’s something else. Brey, Eevee, and Andy… few weeks ago, woods, unconscious, memory loss… Brey, Eevee, Andy…_

Wendy glanced up from dipping a fry in her Hot Winter sauce as Dipper snapped, “That’s what’s off. Where was Johnson? Those four never do anything without the group!” They were tighter than Wendy’s old group during Dipper’s first summer in Gravity Falls. “Did he land further away or something?”

The fry stopped halfway to Wendy’s mouth. She looked at him as if he’d renounced the existence of ghosts. “Who are you talking about? The Johnsons?”

The door jingled again with a diner’s entrance to or exit from Greasy’s. Dipper hardly noticed as he sputtered. He’d expected an answer about a fallout, or Johnson was ill that day. ‘Who?’ hadn’t been considered. A tingling chill pricked along his spine and arms. The diner quieted, making the few shouted greetings louder by comparison. Johnson fled Dipper’s mind as a white clad mountain strolled up to the table.

“Well well well! The rumors’re true.” Dipper stifled his groan at the southern folksy accent. “Little ol’ Dipper’s back in town to rustle up some trouble!”

“Gideon,” Dipper replied stonily as the town sheriff leaned one-handed against the table. The ‘little’ comment held a twinge of irony given Dipper had a solid four inches over the other. But what Gideon lacked in height, he’d made up for in baby fat turned bulging muscle. Gideon had won a weightlifting contest against the champion Manatour the year before. His strength was part of why Mayor Tyler made him sheriff. Charm, a loyal former prison gang, and supernatural experience made up the rest. At least he’d dropped the pompadour in favor of a simple crew cut.

“Wendy, dear,” Gideon turned to the redhead, “This trouble-maker botherin’ you?” he asked with a wink while jabbing a thumb at Dipper.

Wendy rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. “You wish. Got what I asked for?”

The sheriff nodded and handed her a tiny flashdrive. “Ain’t much from the last few weeks fittin’ whatchur after, but hope it helps.”

Dipper could have kissed Wendy. Legally acquiring police reports saved Dipper the risk of jail time had he needed to hack the police department to get access to the files. Gideon,  reconciliation or not, would’ve been thrilled to lock Dipper up again for a time.

The young sheriff finally turned to Dipper. “Been here three days and still haven't cracked the case? You losin’ your touch there, city-boy?”

Gideon kept his tone amicable, but that didn’t soften his presence for Dipper. “Still data collecting,” he grumbled as he sat up further in his seat. “I take it Wendy filled you in on what’s happening?”

Gideon nodded. “Noticed some stuff myself. Little rattling mostly, and my favorite slipper turned up missing, but didn’t think much of it til I heard you came back and started poking around. Reminds me. My sweet Mabel and her adorable kids joinin’ ya per chance?” He leaned towards Dipper.

“Nope, sorry. Xander and Mabel are working on the east coast right now.” He tried to keep the satisfaction out of his voice.

“Well shoot.” Wendy chuckled. Dipper grimaced. Some things never changed. “Anyway, like I said Darlin’,” Gideon turned to Wendy, “Everything extra weird past few weeks is on there. Nothing bigger than 10-74’s and 10- 57’s.”

“Good. So nothing big like injuries or disappearances, like how Dipstick here landed in the Deep Forest?” Wendy asked with a wink at the brunet.

“Naw.” Gideon shook his head, “Everything’s still quiet and safe.” He tapped his chin. “Though, the Mud Puppies and Pixies have been more rambunctious lately.”     

“Wait,” Dipper interrupted, “How can no one be reported missing when you don’t know what happened to Johnson, Wendy?”

“To who now?” Gideon asked, cutting off Wendy’s reply.

Dipper’s head jerked back. He looked between the others. “Johnson! You know, Davey…” he rolled his hand, “Doug… Daniel! Daniel Johnson!” He smacked the table and pointed at the other two. They answered with befuddled expressions. “Gah, Daniel, goes by Johnson, sixteenish, short, always wore those headphones, the Thomson of Aubrey’s group?”

“Ain’t heard of no Daniel Johnson, Dipper. You meaning George or Toni Johnson? Cuz they ain’t got kids yet, specially no teen.”

“And if you mean Thomson, he’s too busy cleaning up the kids’ messes over at the theater,” Wendy replied.

Dipper face palmed, “No, Johnson is Thomson’s… nephew.”  He trailed off as Gideon and Wendy looked at each other and back to him. “Seriously guys. If this is a joke, ya got me. Now knock it off.”

“Dude, don’t steal my line. Thomson doesn’t have a nephew.”

“She’s right Dipper. Been sheriff ten years now and there’s never been a “Daniel” Johnson here, certainly no teens I know.” Gideon shook his head. “Town’s grown a lot in twenty years, but I make it a point to at least put a face to every name.”

Dipper sputtered, trying and failing to form coherent words as he clearly pictured the teen boy he’d seen the year before. He was definitely related to Thompson, with the same heavy build, stubble stash and people-pleasing demeanor.

“But, he was in your survival class Wendy. He almost died three times or something.”

“Everybody almost dies in that class,” Gideon cut in, “Speakin’ of which sweet peach,” he turned back on Wendy, “Mrs. Petunia is still mighty sore about what happened to her boy last week.”

“Ugh, everyone twists their ankle first time through the course.”

Dipper slumped against the backrest as the other two started quibbling. “What in the world is going on…,” he muttered as the other two argued the merits and safety of Wendy’s course.

Finally, Gideon sighed. “Anyway, I gotta get back to the station. Dipper, you want me to look up your ‘Daniel Johnson’ fella?”

Dipper could hear a tease in Gideon’s voice, despite much stranger things happening in Gravity Falls than a person disappearing. “No, no it’s fine. Probably have the wrong name.” He let the matter drop before the town thought he’d lost all his marbles. He sighed inwardly. _So much for not having to hack any records._

The sheriff adjusted his belt before giving Wendy and Dipper pointed glares, lingering on the latter a fraction longer. “Small town or not, those are police files, so don’t go posting them to the net or nothing. Hey, Sherry! Cupo joe to go, please and thank you,” Gideon paused to ask the passing waitress. “Wendy, Dipper,” he lifted his hat, “Stay safe, and try not to set the water tower on fire again.” He glanced at Dipper before leaving, stopping to grab his coffee.

“Ugh. One time, wasn’t even my fault,” Dipper muttered as the door jingled to announce Gideon’s exit.

“He’s just harassing ya.” Wendy waved for the check. “Here, take the drive and see what you can dig up.” She held up the tips of her mid-back hair to examine the split ends. “I need to head out too. Tambry threatened to drown me in her boyfriend gossip if I’m late.”

“Yeesh, wouldn’t want that. Well, have fun. I’ll go over all this tonight. Hopefully it’ll give us what we need.”

“Right. Well, don’t forget all those human essentials. Maybe try some dry clothes first,” Wendy said as she grabbed her coat.

“I like being cold!” Dipper retorted as he paid for lunch and they walked out together. He hopped on his bike as she waved and walked down the street.

 

 

Dipper’s return to the Shack derailed half way down Lynn Ln. He pulled to a stop at the red light between Lynn and Tallow St. The evening crowd strolled along the streets. Some meandered home. Others prowled for places to eat, shop, or hangout.  Among the crossing pedestrians, Dipper spotted Andrew. He called out to the teen before fully processing why.

Andrew pulled down his sunglasses as Dipper pulled up next to him in a street parking spot. Dipper flipped up his visor while fighting the urge to inform Andrew the sun had set. A moment of recognition passed before the boy smiled and slipped the aviator glasses into his shirt pocket. “Hey Mr. Pines! Heard you’re back in town looking for the red spots.  Miss Wendy was jiggin round the school asking ‘bout them today.”

As annoying as it could be, Dipper was suddenly glad teens followed his blogs and Youtube channel. Slang changed constantly, but their comments left him able to decipher it. “Yeah, about that. Wendy said that you and a few of your friends had an odd incident a while back. Can you tell me about it?” Dipper leaned back on his bike as the teen shoved his hands deep in his jacket pockets.

“Twizzler! Eevee, gonna ruin our rep,” the boy muttered. “Ok, ok!” he said when Dipper quirked an unimpressed brow. “See, I don’t remember much. Eevee, Brey and I wanted to go for a walk. Next we knew, we were wakin’ in the woods. We spooked and left. And don’t tell the ‘dults, but we were on Deerpine trail. Guess we were on our way to the falls. But that’s all I know.”

The teen crossed his arms and shuffled his foot on the sidewalk as Dipper stared at him. The man on the bike was scarcely breathing, his nails digging into the arm of his jacket. _That trail…_

“Seriously. You’re not gonna freeze me and snitch to the rents are you?” Andy glanced around at the people slowing to a stop and peering their way.

Dipper shook his head, more to pull himself out of his own head. “No. But you know that trail’s full of Wisps that’ll try to get you lost in the Deep Forest if you aren't careful.” It’s why the trail had been closed off shortly after its discovery two decades ago. Not that it had stopped Dipper, and now the new teen generation. “Just don’t go back there again.”

Andy resumed his stubborn teen air immediately. “Sure,” he responded with a sniff and head tilt.

“One last thing,” Dipper leaned forward to kick his bike back into gear, “Does the name ‘Daniel Johnson’ ring a bell?”

“Ring a bell? Seriously, who still says that? Fine fine. No, it doesn’t. Not unless you mean Thomson. Old moot still won’t let me back in the theater aft the last cheese ball prank.” A mischievous grin twitched the teen’s lips as he mentioned it.

“Right, thanks,” Dipper replied, ignoring whatever a ‘cheese ball prank’ entailed. The teen waved him off as Dipper slipped his visor down over his face and pulled back into traffic.

It wasn’t long before he slapped himself on the helmet and turned down Honeysuckle Ave.

_Dipper Pines, are you twelve again or something? How could you miss the obvious steps and clues?_

Three-quarters of a mile down the road, the houses dropped away. Young, thin trees replaced buildings. Old, towering trees replaced those. While the road lost its smooth black shine, it continued onward into the great expanse of the Gravity Falls forests. Eventually, it would loop around and take the scenic way to both the highway out of town and back into its heart.

Dipper pulled off the road at the .8 marker and dragged his bike up the incline and out of sight. He didn’t bother chaining his bike to the tree it hid behind. People wouldn’t mess with it and the supernatural that might, would not be deterred by a metal chain. He adjusted the straps on his pack, tied his helmet to it and set about hiking Deerpine trail.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone for their sweet and amazing comments and Kudos! I'm doing my best to deliver quality work to you. Sadly, that does mean slower updates now that I literally have no buffer left and work full time at a job that leaves me brain dead at the end of each day. BUT FEAR NOT! I've set up an outline and three arcs for this thing that should HOPEFULLY make writing each chapter easier.  
> I have a bunch of silly fluff scenes that wont make it into the story for pacing, continuity or they just don't fit. Once this story gets into Arc 2, I can start writing and posting those tidbits as filler on a diff story to hold you over during the lulls between proper chapters.  
> I'll also add my little comics to those. They are not related to this story. They're just a fun idea I've been playing with.  
> Again, thanks for your patience and I hope you deem the wait worth it.


	9. Too Many Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper continues to work the case, but the night takes several unexpected turns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, I'm ALIVE! I apologize for the absence. This chapter did NOT want to be written and working full time didn't make that easier. Even having my best friend helping me with this monster didn't make it go faster. But here, have an almost 10 thousand word chapter to make up for the wait! I hope you find this thing more pleasing to read than it was to write.

"Good night Mabes. Thanks again for your feedback. It’ll really help Tristan with his short story.” Dipper scanned his note page full of bullet-point suggestions regarding 'Fabricated Memories’. He'd needed the outside input as his own crossed-out ideas consisted of veiled jabs and insults.  _Hopefully, this will keep Bill satisfied for a while_.

 “No problem, Mason. Hope he likes them,” Mabel answered too sweetly, “Just let me know when you’re ready to tell me what’s actually up! Good night.”

Dipper’s stomach sank with a sharp gasp as the call ended with an abrupt double tone rather than one of Mabel’s patented three stage goodbyes. The dull notes echoed in the silence his sister’s cheerful voice should have filled.

 _Shit!_  He swallowed hard as the hub on his glasses cleared.  _Was it my tone, or something I said? Damn it! Why can I lie to our parents, the CIA, even our Grunkles, but never her?_  His sister’s uncanny ability to read him was a trait he loved and loathed about her in equal measures. _What does she think I’m hiding? Certainly not ‘Bill must be back’. Doesn’t matter. But what’s she going to do now?_   

Click click. He didn’t notice the sting from his burnt and bandaged hand as he held his pen in a death grip. Clickclickclick. “Damnit, I should have just asked mom,” he muttered and swatted his notebook onto the bed. He rubbed his brows with his left hand, breathing deeply, pen still clicking.

After a few minutes of refocusing, he forced his head out of his hand.  _Nothing you can do about Mabel now. Grit your teeth and keep moving._  He closed and dropped his laptop on the bed. Loud pops ran up his spine as he stood and stretched. His right hand protested the movement. With a groan, he opened his eyes and scanned about the room looking for his next task. The dark, expressionist painting of a ship in a storm caught his eye from across the room.

A wyvern-started fire had claimed the original nautical painting that had hung in the shack’s attic in his youth. He’d spent countless nights memorizing its details from his bed, too excited uncovering the town’s mysteries to sleep.

Soos replaced the lost painting with the work of a local artist. “The lightning looks so cool dude!” Sixteen-year-old Dipper agreed, the green and purple lightning striking the ship was impressive. The painting seemed out of place in Gravity Falls, surrounded by forest and far from the ocean. But it hung as a memento of the dream the Stans' shared as children. He sighed, hardly noticing the cold floor under his bare feet as he walked over and pulled the painting off the wall and gently placed it face down against the overstuffed leather chair behind the door.

Mabel's call was more than a check-in. It was a status report. After two weeks of radio silence, Ford had finally called her earlier that day. He’d reported that he and Stan were fine, but the latter far less so. Dipper clenched his left fist as he glared at the painting’s backside, recalling what sent his Grunkles on this last sailing excursion.

Stan had been unwell for a few years. High cholesterol and blood pressure, borderline Diabetic. Recently, he started acting odd. Mood swings, memory problems, even picking fights with Dipper and Mabel. Everyone played it off as Stan just turning into the grumpy old man he was. Nobody wanted to think about his or Ford’s age and implications for the future. 

That changed the night Stan left McGucket’s mansion he and Ford lived in while visiting the town. He terrified the Ramirez family when he broke into the new Mystery Shack and panicked when he couldn’t access the basement and portal. It took Ford two hours to calm Stan down and make him believe he was his twin, back safe and sound for twenty years. Stan didn't recall the event after waking up in the morning. He insisted they were all pulling his arthritic leg.  

It took Ford, Dipper, and Grandpa Sherman to drag Stan to the doctor. After more tests than Stan ever wanted to pay for, they had a diagnosis. Alzheimer's. The doctor gave her condolences and provided plenty of information, but couldn't specify a reliable timeline. Ford was most devastated, blaming himself for erasing his brother’s mind to defeat Bill. “Of all the cruel twists. If there was such a thing as fate, I’d deck it in its facial equivalent!”

Stan handled it as best he could, the same way he dealt with anything unpleasant: by laughing and ignoring it in favor of business as usual. He refused treatments and suggestions to stay in proper medical facilities. He especially refused to let Ford and McGucket use experimental treatments of their own inventions on him. Against Dipper’s warnings about safety, Ford finally convinced Stan to seek some treatments if they went on a final sailing trip. “If it gets too bad, Poindexter can just push me overboard. Sleeping with the fishes is always where I was headed, so it works out!”  Now they were somewhere off the coast of Maine, with Stan doing poorly enough that Ford made an emergency stop at the nearest doctor or hospital.

"I told them. I told them this was a bad idea!” Dipper rubbed his temples, “No!" he turned from the chair to the wall. "Ford’ll take care of Stan. You’ve got enough on your plate.” Dipper sighed, the pen clicking under his thumb again. He could hear his mother tut-tutting him for the millionth time about taking on too much at once.

 “It’s not that I think you can’t handle three AP classes, two clubs, and a part time job Dipper. I just don’t want to see you burn yourself out like your father.”

 “I didn’t ‘burn out’ Rosanne. I just didn’t work ten years on a microprocessor for it to be used in missiles and phones to catch adorable digital monsters.” As if on cue, Dipper and Mabel’s phones buzzed to alert them to the presence of an imaginary purple dinosaur prancing in the pasta bowl. Jeffrey sighed and stabbed more broccoli onto his fork while the twins tossed digital balls at the little creature. Rosanne didn’t bother reprimanding them about phones at the table.

Dipper smirked at the memory and returned his gaze to the blank wall. He tilted his head.  _With just a little more room..._ He turned to the six-foot high dresser against the wall. With a nod to himself, he put his shoulder to it and pushed it to the opposite wall. He cringed and grit his teeth at the wood on wood scrape as the dresser dragged along the floor. The wooden screech was obnoxiously loud in the middle of the night and sounded eerily like a certain triangle’s laugh. That or his overclocked brain was tormenting him again.  _Focus, Pines._

He straightened and watched the door leading to the shared bathroom and Tristan’s bedroom beyond. Nothing stirred. With a curt nod to the new furniture setup, he turned to the rest of his room. As quietly as he could, Dipper shuffled around boxes of dusty files and books from Ford’s old study and mounds of books Soos and his sons checked out for him from the library after school.

At least half of the books and research the Ramierez’s brought him were useless. Histories of Gravity Falls, Encyclopedia of the Weird, The Necrotelinomicon (for calling the dead!), Journals of Quintin Trembly, Frankenstein's journal notes, etc. He appreciated their efforts anyway, even if the book piles left the room more cramped than his old college dorm.

He pursed his lips amid reorganizing and rummaging when he glimpsed his destroyed book bag sitting next to his bed. "Don’t worry about that right now." The laptop dinged and brightened with a sharp tap on the enter key. After entering his twenty-four character password, dozens of police reports, logs, and documents sprang up on screen, courtesy of Wendy’s flash drive. PRINT ALL. His portable printer whirred to life, belching out its finished work all over the dresser and floor.

His pen clicked in time with the papers printing as he skimmed websites, blogs and pdfs. He closed each police file as it finished printing to keep track until only the browser’s twenty tabs remained. All should have pertained to Daniel Cave Johnson, but they either proclaimed a 404 error or broken links and pictures.  

“I don’t understand,” he mumbled, “How can Mabel and I remember him,” he’d asked during their phone call, “but not the town or even the Internet?” But he pulled zilch from Cheepers.com, Easlytrggrd.net, Acceptablestalking.com and, Mabel’s personal outdated favorite, Talktalk.com. Even Infinity search failed to produce anything on the boy. 

It was one thing to find nothing in local news archives or police records.  _But to be erased so thoroughly..._  He bit his lip and glanced at his backpack again. The printer’s ding of completion made him flinch as he skimmed a seemingly redacted file. Shaking his head, he closed the laptop before scooping up the mess of printed files. He ruffled through them and sorted the files pertaining to the strange events listed in the flash drive, with the corresponding ones he pulled straight from the police database. 

He frowned as the password Gideon used taunted him again. Dipper would need to insist the sheriff change the police record’s password from “DipperisStupid.” It was less cringe-worthy than the old one, “MyMarshmellowMabel”, but keeping the same password for seven years was just bad practice.

Dipper finished sorting the papers on his bed and turned to his backpack. His shoulders slumped with his sigh. He couldn’t put it off any longer; he needed the supplies from his bag. His fingers flexed as if he were about to touch a toxic slug, but it unzipped without incident. He breathed again and retrieved non-damaging tacks and three rolls of yarn- red, blue, and yellow. A grimace twitched his lips at the bright, primary color of the last.

He leafed through his hand-written notes on the bed’s green paisley quilt. Most were written in code, a precaution he seldom found necessary but always took regardless. These used his favorite, the one based on his and Mabel's childhood code. Matured and refined now, he was confident they were the only two able to read it; what with three different butterflies standing in for six different concepts and twenty depending on placement. His stomach twisted and chest hollowed as if he'd not seen food in days.  After the food coma he should be suffering from the dinner Soos and Abuelita made, hunger wasn't the culprit.

He sighed, shook off the guilt, and forced himself to focus for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He finished tearing out his notes from their reams and gathered his materials. The next two hours passed with five paper cuts and muffled swearing as Dipper stuck report after document after picture on the cleared wall in three distinct clusters.

The largest cluster by far was of the case that brought him to Gravity Falls. Police office logs, Wendy’s findings, and sticky notes ran across the wall to create an approximate timeline denoting the start of 'weird' events. Normally, police dealt with things like: Manatuar fights, pixie tricks, pie-thieving gnomes and the occasional tourist panic.

March third, Gravity Falls got weirder.

* 03/03/2032 15:23- All hotlines jammed with reports from concerned citizens regarding simultaneous instances of: Abnormal yellow- tasting [sic] lights; Gnomes sighted fleeing forest and running into objects, noted as disoriented and alarmed; Various inanimate objects [sic] emoting-greeting, winking, smiling, happy poo; Explosions heard from west; Power grid and most electronics disabled for ten minutes.  (15:12-15:22). Full details in report # 32/03/03 UP-5 [Busier night than last Summerween. No evidence found what coulda caused supposed explosions. Gnomes were as helpful as always. Thankfully ~~my favorite bunny pillow~~ all objects returned to normal within minutes. Official explanation is teen magic prank gone awry at power station.]

Good old small towns with their informal police reporting. At least Gideon kept his added notes in code to keep prying eyes occupied, but Dipper deciphered them easily enough.

* 03/04/2032 2:51- Earthquake reading 4.2 on Richter Scale

* 03/05/2032 19:02- Earthquake reading 4.5 on Richter Scale

* 03/08/2032 13:08- Received call from “Bodacious 'T” at Manly Dan's Gym and Mancave. Dispatched officer Lucky Lu and officer Big Jim to scene. Officers reported number 13 door appeared outside of normal cycle, replaced bathroom door. One manatuar unaccounted for. Full details in report # 32/03/08 D13

Dipper glared at this report.  _No missing persons, huh ‘sheriff’?_

* 03/08/2032 4:36 Earthquake reading  4.8 on Richter scale. No damage. Many calls to office. Full report on recent quakes in Report 32/03/08 Q- 86 [Aurora Lights over town following quake. Townsfolk assumed unicorn rave or gas leak. Have to ask Ol’ McGucket to confirm. Tarnation’s goin on round here?]

* 03/10/2032 21:36- Received call from Bettsy Short's residence. Complained of hearing strange noises, and screaming. Seemed to be interference from hearing aid. [Never did like them hearing aids.]

Dipper smirked at that.

* 03/12/2032 06:41 Reports of all local dogs howling and resident ghosts suddenly wailing for a full minute before resuming normal activities. Full details in report # 32/03/10 ND- 43 [Been seeing more red wisps round town. Ordered more hematite stones to put round town borders.]

 _Oh good. I don’t need to talk to him about that then._ Dipper stuck the entry next to the corresponding police report.

* 03/14/2012  08:15 Doctor B. reported patient visit to emergency room for examination after large pot of boiling water spilled on them. No burns observed despite contact with skin. Doctor B. wrote patient referral to local psychologist for evaluation. [Followed up with Dr. B and Patient. Both swear by their stories. Ghost burns have been known to cause similar symptoms.]

Similar or stranger incidents continued with increasing frequency. Thankfully, none of the earthquakes registered above 5.2 or the town would have serious structural damage. Nonetheless, Gideon’s and the various recording officer’s notes became noticeably more distraught as things started teleporting, hovering, or disappearing. The last recorded incident before Dipper’s arrival was the vanishing of Mrs. Tanalie’s canary, cage and all.

Some suspected a town-wide poltergeist, which would be impressive to document, Dipper had to admit. But, it didn’t explain the other incidents. It didn’t explain Bill.  _Granted, Bill explains Bill and my money’s still on him being the cause of all this._  Dipper gnawed on his pen as he looked over the wall.

Sticky-notes littered the makeshift timeline with personal observations and those he’d heard from others. Given the police records didn’t include what he’d seen in the kitchen earlier, other incidents likely remained unreported. Dipper huffed.  _Working with incomplete data is the worst._

Speaking of incomplete data… Dipper focused on the other two clusters on the wall. Hand-written notes composed the majority of their mass. The larger of the two also spiraled out with red and blue yarn connecting redacted looking files and articles to various photos. The most interesting, or boring to the untrained eye, were the pictures of a statue in the forest taken with several different lenses. The statue looked frustratingly normal even in x-ray, ultraviolet, and EM field. The only two that seemed odd were thermal and black light.

The picture of plain red headphones, lying on the ground at the statue’s feet, seemed out of place among the cluster. But it was what unnerved Dipper the most, even more so that the statue’s frozen eyes and lifelike details. Dipper ground his teeth as he looked over the pictures, hoping to find any clues he previously missed. His burnt hand was all that kept him from punching something when nothing new came from the limited data. “I’m sorry you paid the price for my stupidity,” he muttered to the wall of pictures.

Dipper’s glare shifted to at the last, smallest cluster of notes pertaining to Bill when the statue’s pictures remained unconvinced of Dipper’s sincerity. “Should let you rot out in that forest,” he threatened the wall of double encrypted notes.

Knock knock knockknock.

Dipper flinched at the rapping on the bathroom door shared between him and Tristan. Ending his glaring contest with the wall, he cracked open the bathroom door. Clad in batman pj pants and old luchador tee shirt, Tristan cocked his head, shielding his face from the abrasive bedroom light. 

 “Hey Tristan, sorry if I woke you,” Dipper kept his voice low, as if to keep from waking the teen further.

Tristan seemed to need an extra moment to formulate a response. “I had to pee anyway. But it’s like… three in the moooorninnnng?” he finished with a yawn.

Dipper started and glanced at his HUB clock. 03:36. “Huh.”

“Anyway,” Tristan rubbed his eye, “See ya in the morning… or whatever.” He waved halfheartedly and turned back to his room. Dipper said a soft good night and closed his door. He glanced at his clock again before looking over the room. It wasn’t too messy.  He looked back to his wallboard.  _Not great, but it’s not going to improve anymore tonight._

 “Guess it’d be better to keep a clear head while I can,” Dipper mumbled to himself. He kicked off his jeans by the bottom of the bed and pulled on sweatpants with little green aliens -a gift from “Santa” for Xmas last year. He shuffled his research off the bed and onto the floor, making sure to tuck it under the bed frame to avoid stepping on it. After placing his glasses on the nightstand and checking the knife under his pillow, he flicked off the light.

The ceiling and he promptly engaged in their age-old staring contest. He conceded defeat and tossed to his left. He tossed to his right. Back at the ceiling. His mind began replaying memories in the dark, the eternal curse of all great insomniacs. Everything that had gone wrong in his life played out in miserable sequence the moment the room darkened. Special attention was granted to his hike earlier that day.

|>|>|>

Since its official closure due to increasing frightened, lost, and injured tourists, Deerpine trail degraded into little more than a treacherous, winding, path perused and maintained only by deer. If one successfully avoided gnarled roots and hidden pitfalls and survive the steep hill grade, their reward was access to a pristine pond fed by a mountain spring waterfall. Even before its closure, most didn’t think it worth it.

Dipper had never been a normal kid though. So one day, while Mabel played with Candy and Grenda, he decided to kill his boredom with a hike down the mysterious path. He lost an hour following red wisps down a false trail and almost quit after tripping and acquiring a nasty scrape on his leg.

Stubbornness won out though and he found the awarded view completely worth it.  _Mabel would love this…I have to convince her to come with me next time!_  He abandoned that thought on the hike back.  

In the twilight forest, he missed a snag and stumbled a few feet off the path. SNAP! Pain exploded through his ankle as an old deer clamp-trap slammed around it. Fumbling fingers scrambled to release it in the dim light. While wrapping his ankle and biting back tears, he noticed a brown crunchy patch of grass amongst healthy green.

Ever too curious for his own good, he investigated, wincing with every step. Dipper pushed aside the dying bush and shrieked louder than when the clamp tried to sever his ankle. Surrounded by a small radius of dead foliage and insects sat the stone shell of Bill Cipher as he remembered it from three years ago right before said monster fell for the Stans’ trap.

Dipper tried to convince himself it was a wicked joke. Someone’s horrible dark sense of humor to make a replica and leave it in the woods. There was no way anything of Bill remained in their dimension. The Pines had made sure of it after Weirdmageddon. Nevertheless, the proof of its authenticity lay in the circle of death surrounding it.

Dipper, fifteen-year-old boy that he was, pitched a rock at the statue and dove behind a bush. Nothing happened. He crept from the bush, inching closer. Upon stepping into the ring of dead grass, fatigue tackled him, as if to compensate for the earlier hike. He wobbled back outside the ring and collapsed at its edge, cursing as some of his weight fell upon his ankle. The fatigue vanished, leaving him winded. He started laughing, maybe a bit more frantically than required. “Here I was, beginning to think I’d never see you again.”

He’d had every intention of telling Great Uncle Ford and letting him decide how to dispose of the statue. He knew he couldn’t keep it a secret from Mabel either. Somehow, intention never became action; he never told them, or anyone else. “They have their closure and don’t want to remember him. Why should I ruin that for them?” In the end, instead of endangering the statue, he found himself returning and risking the energy drain to cover it as best he could. He worried about the ring of death surrounding Bill, but it never increased and he never found anything more than sickly plants and dead insects affected by the statue’s radius of decay.

Over time, he found himself hiking up to the statue to reapply the flora covering. The clearing was as quiet and still as a graveyard, radiating an eerie peace that helped Dipper clear his mind. He couldn’t help talking to it while he worked. Normally it was mundane things like grades and friends. Other times, more personal things came out.  It wasn’t any weirder than talking to a graveyard headstone, he’d rationalized. _At least no weirder than anything else in Gravity Falls._ It kept his secrets, and he kept its in return.

He never touched the statue though. Some primal human instinct warned him that was a horrible idea. He’d learned to trust those instincts. 

When it was time for college, Dipper decided it was a best to leave the past behind. At least, that had been the plan. Clearly, his final goodbye and joke to Bill about shaking his hand proved catastrophic.   

|>|>|>

Soft green light scanned over budding branches and bare bushes. The beam lingered longer on the occasional twinkling eye or muted red wisp away from the path. After two hours of traversing Deerpine Trail in the dark, Dipper finally arrived at the Cipher Statue. The low-light flashlight clattered to the ground after he pushed aside oak saplings and thriving bushes. He’d hoped and prayed he would only find an empty clearing. His years of atheism finally came back to haunt him, and the gods he did not believe in ignored his pleas.

In the growing, green clearing stood a new statue. Stooped over, and so perfectly lifelike that Michelangelo himself would have thrown down his tools in a fit of jealousy, was the missing teen Johnson. As if the statue’s perfect likeness was not evidence enough, the boy’s favorite red headphones lay at its feet. Faded red and likely water damaged.

“Damnit!” Dipper ripped off his triforce hat and threw it at the lush ground, raking his fingers through his thick curls. He looked back at the statue. The statue’s amused and smiling expression did nothing to quell the icy fire tearing through his chest. He stalked around the statue, swearing the whole time.

“Damnit. Damnit. Damnit! This is all. My. FAULT! Ack!” He reared back, shaking his hand after punching the nearest tree. He didn’t stop to check if any of his bleeding knuckles broke from the attack. Instead, he dropped to a knee, swung his bag to the ground and yanked open the largest pocket. 

 _I’ll bring back pictures to Gideon. Maybe he, Gucket or Ford will have an idea of how to restore him. It's gotta be possible._  He grabbed the metal case containing his thousand-dollar Canon camera, assorted lenses and surveillance equipment.  Xander better have put the x-ray attachment back. The case dropped back to the bottom as an electric shock jolted through his fingers.  _The hell?_

Suddenly, the flap of the small front pocket flew open. Dipper blanched as a red tinged, travel-sized Bill poked out of the pocket like an irate Oscar the Grouch popping out of his can.  

 “Quit jostling me! How am I supposed to finish this stupid homework,” Bill held up a miniature binder, “if you keep tossing me around?” Bill’s voice echoed like a frigid river through a cave. He didn’t give Dipper a chance to respond as he disappeared back into the pack with a huff.

Dipper knelt there, frozen and pale as an ice sculpture. Time dragged as he tried to process that he’d toted an amnesic inter-dimensional monster through town. Inside the bag, Bill muttered to himself about rude people having no consideration for others.  

 _Shit! What if I’d gone back to the shack? Could he get through the shield like that? It could have blown my cover. Or he could have hurt Soos’ family. He could have… he could have…_  Dipper glanced back at the statue of Johnson.

“Hey Hey Hey! ACK! Leggo!” Bill shouted as Dipper tore open the pocket and snatched him from the bag by his top hat. Bill’s little black legs flailed, his eye scrunched as he held on to his hat like someone dragged by their hair.

“Why were you in my bag? What’re you planning?” Dipper demanded, shaking the triangle for good measure.

“Letgo! I wasn’t. Ow! I said LET GO!” Dipper shouted and released Bill when the triangle’s eye flashed black and hat spiked in temperature to a white-hot coal. Bill, body a livid red, tripled in size as he darted up out of Dipper’s reach. A loud rip snapped Dipper’s attention to his bag. Bill’s binder lay splayed spine up in front of the ruined backpack.

Dipper’s heart skipped a beat when he saw shattered glass amongst pens, camera box and notebooks. “Nonono!” He swatted the books aside. A deep sigh escaped. He’d only need a new magnifying glass. He clicked open the box to inspect the camera and lenses. “Ow! Fuck,” he exclaimed as pain seared through his palm. A purple, broken knuckle or two he expected. Instead, he found seeping white skin and bubbling blisters covering the left side of his right hand.

He turned his glare on the hovering triangle. “Bill, what the fuck?!” He stood with a stomp for emphasis. “You hitchhike in, and destroy my bag. Almost break my camera, and look what you did to my hand!” He shoved his burned palm at the other. “What the FUCK, Bill?”

Bill, out of reach of the other, drifted further away from his tirade, dented hat held in front of him like a shield. “Well… Well you shouldn’t have grabbed me! And you should’ve given me a pen to fill out your stupid binder!"

He glanced around, "And why are we in the middle of nowhere in the dark?!” Bill’s arms flailed at the emptiness around them. His hat floated in front of him where he’d been holding it, drifting in opposition to the night’s cool breeze. He snatched it, clutching it close beneath his eye once more and staring at Dipper with the defiance of a guilty four-year-old. 

 _Tsk. A pen?_  Dipper smacked himself in the face, wincing and biting his lip as pain shot through his palm.  _Of all the stupid. He destroyed my bag for. No. There’s more important..._ Dipper glanced to Johnson’s statue. He lowered his hand and took a breath to calm and center himself. Bill, hat still held close by the rim, silently watched Dipper as he leaned down and retrieved the flashlight with his left hand.

“Never mind everything else for now. Bill. What did you do to Johnson?” he used the light to point at the statue. “How do we change him back?””

“What? I haven’t done anything to anyone. You’re the only person I’ve met so far, remember?”

Dipper grit his teeth, grip tightening on the flashlight. “You said someone shook your hand and freed you.”

“Yeah…” Bill finally turned to look, shrinking slightly at the sight of the illuminated statue.

“Well, that’s him. That’s who you have to thank for your freedom. And you’re going to thank him by turning him back to normal.”

“Turn back? Wait, why me? It was your bright idea to have someone shake my hand. Shouldn’t you be happy it worked or whatever?”

“Does it look like I’m happy right now?” Dipper shouted. Bill cringed and drifted further away. Dipper took another breath, flexing his right hand and using the pain to focus. “Okay, maybe you didn’t mean to turn him to stone. That’s fine. Accidents happen,” Dipper reasoned, “Now you just have to turn him back.”

Bill smoothed out his hat and placed it back on his top angle. He crossed his arms and glared at Dipper, “You keep saying that like you expect me to know what you mean and how to do it.”

“You have magic, now use it!” The green light flailed about the trees as Dipper jerked his hands to Bill then Johnson. He didn’t have time to regret his words.

“I have magic?” Bill’s eye widened.  He flew to Dipper’s face, expanding as he exclaimed, “Why didn’t you say so?” He drifted over to the statue. Images blitzed across his surface as he cracked and wiggled his fingers. “Just… don’t blame me if I actually kill him trying to undo whatev-ev-ev is-sis-is.”

Dipper smacked his wrist against his forehead when Bill started looking around. The triangle turned to him and jabbed a thumb at the statue, “What’s with the forest decoration?”

 _His memory loss and resets are becoming more trouble than he’s worth_.

Quiet as background noise, as if he heard the other's thought, “Dipper, I don’t like it here. Let’s go.” Bill was small again, hat clenched in his hands. He glanced around the clearing. His gaze lingering a second longer on the statue than anywhere else.

Dipper tilted his head. “Why? Do you know where we are?”

“Ye-no! I just… you humans can’t see well in the dark right, scared of it or something. Think it’s going to eat you, I don’t know. We should get you home. Oh look, you dropped your hat!” Bill replaced his own, swerved around Johnson, grabbed the triforce hat and held it out to Dipper, all while giving the statue a healthy berth.

“Bill,” the triangle flinched, looking away from the statue, “You know where we are. Who that is,” Dipper stated, ignoring the proffered cap.

“No! I just want to leave, you know, for your sake and such. Don’t know why you came here.” Bill glanced at the statue and away, clutching the cap close and wringing it in his hands.

“Bill.”

“Forget it,” Bill dropped the cap, his edges tinged a pale orange. “You want to stay and play tea party with that thing, that’s your biz. I’m leav-.”

“No, wait!" Dipper exclaimed as he grabbed Bill's arm, rooting the triangle to the spot. "You said he's still alive..." Bill's silence gave him a second to examine the lack of pain arising from the impulsive gesture. Where his hand should have erupted in agony he felt only a bizarre sensation. Bill's arm thrummed with energy beneath its smooth, glassy exterior. It reminded him of Mabel's frantic scribbling art phase.

“Can he hear us?" He shushed his curiosity to press on, "Is he conscious like you were?” He wasn’t sure if that was better than dying or far worse. Bill didn’t respond, but the scribbling sensation in his arm kicked up a notch. “What would happen if you shook his hand? Would that free h-,” Dipper hissed and released Bill's arm. The scribbling abruptly alive with the abrasive heat of a rug burn and the bruising shock of a Taser. Bill shot ten feet into the air, his bright yellow dull like a snuffed candle.

“You want him free so bad, you shake his hand,” his voice quiet but vibrating like a tuning fork, “I refuse to go back to that.” Bill shrank as if slipping away from Dipper into the forest surrounding the clearing. The color drained from his form as he continued, “Blind, numb, trapped. It was horrible. I couldn’t do anything but exist in a state of confusion while listening to the world pass me by. Everything bled together, with no context of time or space. I barely know now what I heard or what I imagined, when things happened, or if they even happened at all."

Dipper shuddered, remembering the time an aggressive mole men colony buried him alive for snooping. Thankfully, Soos and Stan had dug him out after five hours. He couldn’t imagine twenty years like that. He sighed and rubbed his head, taking care not to agitate his burn. He couldn’t argue against that fate. Not when he wouldn’t want to return to something like that either.  _But it means leaving Johnson that way, which isn’t any better._

He frowned but waved Bill down, “Okay, you don’t have to shake his hand or anything. But can you find him in the Mindscape or his Dreamscape, tell him we’re going to find a way to help him? I’ll take some filtered pictures; see if they tell us anything.” He grabbed his camera case. Good pictures would be hard with his injured hand, but he'd have to make do.  _And come up with an explanation for it…_

The sudden drop in air pressure made Dipper’s ears pop. The trees clacked their leafless branches together as the wind swirled around the clearing. He turned back to look for Bill, already realizing his mistake and expecting Bill to be glitching.  

He gasped, taking a stumbled back from the being next to him. Bill screeched like a car crash, scratching at his pitch-black body, eye blazing scarlet. Pieces dripped from him as he liquefied and plopped to the ground like so many discarded organs. Bile rose in Dipper’s throat as the gelatinous form continued to screech and writhe. Dozens of noodle arms rose and disintegrated along with multi-colored eyes. The temperature kaleidoscoped, making Dipper woozy as much as the sight made him nauseous.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t look away from the spectacle. Arcane symbols flickered across Bill's writhing surface and eyes. Dipper snapped one picture to capture a symbol. The squirming mass emitted another milk-curdling screech. He didn't take another. Bill’s form continued to resemble a monster death from a gruesome B-rated horror flick until Dipper worried he permanently broke the poor triangle.

Finally, the air’s erratic temperature and pressure frenzy abated. Bit by bit, Bill’s form solidified and pieced itself back together into its normal shape. His color remained black, however, and he didn’t move or respond to Dipper’s prompting.

Dipper collapsed to the ground as everything returned to normal in the environment. He swallowed to pop his ears and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The camera's ding echoed through the trees in the total silence. Hitting the review button retrieved Bill's picture. The image was so distorted that not even the most avid supernatural nut would attest to its validity. He pointed the camera at Bill’s prone form.

A grimace scrunched his face as he took a few more snapshots with different filters.  _If Bill were a person, someone would call me a total creep._  At least the pictures didn’t seem to bother Bill now.  _Hopefully, it’s not because he’s dead._  

He paused.  _Tsk, I just don’t want to feel bad if I killed him. No, wait. It’s Bill. I should want him dead and could brag that I did it single-handedly._  He clicked his tongue.  _Bill deserves any horrible fate thrown at him._  His stomach continued squirming despite the affirmation.

His frown deepened as he turned to Johnson’s statue. “Don’t worry Johnson, I’ll find a way to help you.” The camera clicked with each picture and filter shift. Satisfied with his work, he closed the camera and turned back to Bill.

He chewed his cheek, trying to decide what to do with the unconscious, perhaps dead triangle.  _I could make him shake Johnson’s hand, which might work just as well._  He couldn't bring himself to do it. It didn’t sit well with him. Something about backstabbing and dishonorable conduct on the same level as old Bill.

 _Old Bill._  Dipper sighed and walked over to his destroyed bag. He hung the camera around his neck and shoved everything else but the flashlight into the last usable pocket. It was a tight fit, and the zipper didn’t close all the way, but it sufficed. He hefted the bag on his shoulders and walked over to Bill. No response to poking.

Dipper sighed again and gently picked him up. He grimaced at the lack of sensation. Bill still felt glass smooth, but it was as if the frantic artist called it a night. “Guess it’d be rude to leave you here like this. Who knows what could come along and nibble on you.” The question of what Bill would taste like to whatever tried to eat him rose unbidden to the front of his mind. Dipper gave a short goodbye to Johnson. Then, questioning every decision leading to that point, left the clearing with Bill in his arms.   

A short walk later, Dipper arrived at the pond. He set down his bag and propped Bill up against it. The flashlight found a new home shoved in a bush. A shiver shook his shoulders as he removed his scarf and placed it between him and the wet grass. Finally, he pulled out his notebooks and camera, to look through them. His hand hovered over the binder he had given to Bill.

“Seriously?” Dipper rolled his eyes as he flipped through the amnesia binder. The first page of questions had “I don’t remember,” “I don’t know,” and a lot of scratched out half thoughts. The next ten pages held doodles of himself and rambling nonsense unrelated to anything.

To make matters worse, Bill apparently didn’t know how to write like a normal person. Instead of left to right typewriter style, he switched every few lines between mirroring, backward, and zigzag style. Dipper dropped the binder with a headache forming behind his eyes.

He picked up the camera and cycled through the photos of Bill and Johnson on the preview screen instead. At a glance, he could tell that the data was unusual, but he needed to do some research to understand what that meant. Not for the first time, he wished he could tell someone, anyone.  _…McGucket's expertise here would be invaluable._  His hand protested when he clenched the camera tighter.  _That's not happening. I'm not risking any more Johnsons._   

Small hope distracted him when he clicked the next image. The thermal image of Johnson showed the tiniest flicker of heat at his heart and brain.  _Does that mean we could save him?_

The hope and relief bubbling up fell flat like week old soda-pop with the next preview image. The black light filter revealed faint white lines littering his body like cracked stone. He wanted to dismiss it as snail trails or anything else. However, the bold white lines running down his smiling face from his eyes refused him the respite.

Mild disappointment compounded his heavy heart when the x-ray shot of bill proved useless. Instead of inner anatomy and skeletal forms, he saw only the blank, white shape of the triangle. Dipper placed the camera on the lush grass and dropped his head to his knees. Damnit, this is a mess.

“Ugh. Ow. Anyone c-catch that license plate?”

Dipper returned his attention to Bill as the triangle lifted a few inches off the ground. Twitches and flickers continued to torment him as he hovered over to the pond. A ploop accompanied his face plant into the shallow water where he floated facedown like a strange, featureless leaf.  

Dipper lunged forward to save Bill from drowning. Bill thanked Dipper for his efforts with a spurt of water to the face. The triangle dangled upside down by the foot as Dipper wiped his face with the back of his sleeve.   

“Are my teeth on fire?” Bill, still dangling, pointed at his eye as it morphed into clamp-trap teeth. "I feel like I'm still on fire." The Claymation style movement of Bill's mouth and teeth made Dipper wrinkle his nose.

Plink. Bill resurfaced with a squirt and sigh. Dipper couldn't suppress a rueful smirk as Bill splashed himself with his little hands. After a minute, Bill twisted in the water to look up at Dipper.  "Am I good?"

“Yeah... you're fine."  _I think..._

Bill hmmed. “Let’s agree to never do whatever caused that again, alright?” He flipped on his backside to float in the water, spitting it out every time it splashed into his eye mouth. Psssfph. Psssfph.

“Yeah…” Dipper replied, picking the camera back up to look at the back light picture of Johnson.

Bill ceased splashing around in the inch-deep water, settling into a seated position like a child in the kiddie pool. His mouth switched back to an eye and he watched the rippling water as if he suddenly couldn’t comprehend its existence.

"Dipper," he looked up to the human, "What were our adventures like in the past? Because I've woken up feeling horrible twice already while you were around..."

Dipper glared at the black light picture to keep from looking at Bill _. Shit, I didn't have time to prepare for this._  As horrible as it was, the picture gave him the perfect escape. "They had their moments for both of us," he glanced at the other then back to the camera, "But we have to focus on saving Johnson."

Bill huffed and slapped the water, "I don't see why he's so-,"

"Of course you don't," Dipper interrupted with a severe glare. Bill flinched back, averting his eye.  _Stupid. Why did I think for a second he was any different even with his memories missing?_

Bill remained silent, flickering every few seconds before glaring back up at Dipper. “Why is this human so important? You of all people should understand killing to save yourself. Least mine isn’t dead, technically… I think.”

The strap around Dipper’s neck saved the camera, but not the black light lens he’d been removing. Fumbling hands only served to slap it to the ground harder. Crack. He barely registered its demise as he turned on Bill. “Wh-what did you say?”

“You know, that one time you told me about the Indian kid and your sister and the- HEY!” He flinched at a stone that missed him by an inch.

Dipper pitched another stone at Bill, “No. Shut up! You’re not allowed to talk about that!" He grabbed the broken lens and stood, "Don’t bring it up again.”  

“Right, throw rocks at me, just like the brick! Real mature!” Bill stood as well and shouted at Dipper's retreating back.

Dipper paused, fine bits falling from the cracked lens in his tightening grip. “Good night Bill. Stay here,” he said and grabbed the remnants of his bag from the ground and the light from the bush without looking back.

“Wait a minute! No, don’t leave! I didn’t… I mean, uh. Are we meeting tomorrow?" Bill shot out of the water towards Dipper, "Do you want me to guide you back, or-,” he began, only to pause halfway at the human's bitter scowl.

“Stay. Here.” Dipper left the glade without another word exchanged between them.

|>|>|>

Dipper rolled over in bed and checked his clock. 4:17. A notepad and his speed drops glowed red in the light of the numbers. He shoved the bottle into the nightstand below. The wooden drawer fought his attempts to close it before finally banging shut.  _I wanted to be up by six anyway._  He tugged on a pair of knitted socks as he pulled himself out of bed.  _And if I'm going to be noisy..._ he tiptoed down to the main floor.

The house was dark this early in the morning, lit only by the antique 30's lamp by Abuelita's chair. Dipper smiled at the collage of portraits and candid photos of the Ramirez's that filled the walls so family could always surround her. The soft light of the lamp cast a warm glow on the myriad of memories extending back to pictures of Soos as a child through the Julio’s most recent Lacrosse tournament."

He walked to the kitchen and flipped on the coffee pot, making sure to turn the wake-up alarm off. Nothing could stop the delicious Arabian Black coffee aroma. As the pot brewed, Dipper putzed around the kitchen tidying the counters and organizing the angel figurines according to size. The long playlist of old pop songs and newer rock that he hummed while working failed to quiet his mind. Snippets of memories dredged up from his conversation with Bill continued breaking his concentration. "Tsk. Little geometric bastard."

Soon, not even his attempts at distraction helped. The coffee's sweet aroma turned to gunpowder. The silent house made the firefight in his head thunderous. He gave up wiping the counters with a sponge when his mind turned the wet rectangle into a dense brick slick with blood. Heavy eyes begged him back to bed, but he knew only nightmares waited for him now.  Before long, he was sipping acrid coffee and meticulously dusting every picture frame and Knick-knack on the first floor.

Just as he found his Zen in mindless cleaning, he picked up an artifact from Delhi, India. The statue clattered back to the shelf as if it burned him. Shaking hands grabbed the nearest picture frame to clean, but the ivory elephant dumped dusty, gruesome memories onto him like a five-car pileup.

 |>|>|>

Dipper graduated Chatham University a solid two years before his sister by applying himself half to death. He hadn’t meant to follow in Great Uncle Ford’s example, and the old man hadn’t encouraged it, but motivation doesn’t listen to reason. While Mabel enrolled at Colgate University’s education program, joined ten clubs and became president of four of them, Dipper pulled all-nighters conquering his double majors in Anthropology and Journalism with a Media minor.

Shortly after graduation, Mabel joined Peace Corps with the dream of changing the world through educated children. Her first assignment was in Delhi, India to teach at a new inner city school. Neither she nor Dipper could sleep the three nights leading up to her departure. He kept finding news articles about riots, kidnappings and general unrest in the area. She poured over the local cuisine and play areas for the children. Xander, still working on his Architecture degree, swore his hair grayed just thinking of his beloved girlfriend in India for two years.

Airport security grumbled over the huge group that came to see her off and she almost missed her plane from the extended goodbyes and hugs. The moment she landed, she was calling, Skyping, and buying souvenirs for everyone.

While Mabel started her life in India, Dipper's second year of graduate school drowned him. Xander’s grades suffered as well because different schools were one thing, opposite sides of the world were another. They knew Mabel was fine and could take care of herself. Grunkle Stan taught them Boxing while Great Uncle Ford taught them martial arts and basic weaponry. Yet, the ominous articles surrounding India ate at all of them.

During fall break, the boys joined Mabel in India. The hotel accommodations failed to inspire confidence regarding Mabel’s health and safety. While Mabel confessed some concerns about safety, homesickness, and leaving her boys alone, she was having the time of her life. The trip and all the pictures of her on elephants and blog posts about her wonderful students proved placating for a short time and the boys’ grades resumed their A average. However, one misheard news report about water rights riots in Deoil, India incited momentary panic and persistent dread.

Thanks to determination, strings pulled, and key name drops, Dipper secured a nice cover story for an independent study abroad trip to India in the spring semester. Mabel was not pleased. Despite his insistence that he was there for an ethnographical study of the Vednali people and their adaptation to the supernatural hot spot in which they lived, she refused to speak to him for three weeks.

Though they both knew his study abroad assignment was his excuse to stay near Mabel, his preliminary work with the Vednali soon caught his interest and became his new obsession. By the Maha Shivarati festival, Mabel forgave Dipper and the twins returned to their companionable relationship.

India’s climate and multitudinous cultures dazzled Dipper as much as it did Mabel. The Vednali’s adaptations and use of their unique supernatural phenomenon absorbed him much the same as Gravity Falls had Ford and himself. Granted, it lacked the cataclysmic weirdmageddon of the past. At least, Dipper wished it had.

By his second semester, Dipper's rapport with the Vednali was such that they revealed their more sacred cultural treasures. Their leader and shaman, Gautam, introduced Dipper to Melawai, a delicate flower dried and smoked that allowed them to “see the other planes” and provide “guidance from the spirits.”  Dipper hid his cringe at the similarity to Great Uncle Ford and his “guiding muse”.

Gautam allowed him a small dose of Melawai to experience the visions for himself. He’d had his share of drug use through college, caffeine didn’t power sleepless cram sessions like Adderall and small Meth doses, so he agreed.  After two hours of laying on the woven mat under the watchful eye for Gautam, Dipper was ready to believe Melawai wasn’t a regular flower. Not when it let him enter the Mindscape, or someplace eerily similar to it.

 While Dipper researched Melawai with Gautam, Mabel’s school came under duress.  A local militia gained local support for their stance against the current biased ruling party. They demanded equality, fresh water access and a stronger say in legislative policy. To help fuel their rise to prominence, they demanded Mabel and her fellow teachers espouse their doctrine or leave. They also wanted the older children for their militia.

When the teachers refused, children as young as nine years old disappeared, and the school came under fire numerous times. The aggressive tactics backfired on the militia and they lost local support. Instead of backing off, the guerrilla group blamed the teachers and school for the loss.

One night, while Dipper experimented with Melawai in his apartment, the militia kidnapped teachers and kids during an evening teaching session Mabel had set up to accommodate children who worked daily to support their families. She found out and immediately set about gathering the police, other teachers, and her dear brother, too focused on the developing crisis to realize that he wasn’t in his right mind.

The militia headquartered in an old warehouse on the outskirts of town. While the police tried to negotiate the surrender of the group and release of the hostages, Mabel and Dipper snuck their way inside. It wasn’t the first time that Grunkle Stan’s less than legal methods came in handy for them. The tricks that he’d taught to them and the Grow/Shrink ray they always sneaked through airport security made things easy. It wasn’t even their first rescue mission together, but it was the first high risk where both weren’t at their best.

Voices and movement at the edge of his senses kept Dipper distracted. Colorless people brushed against him where logic told him there were none. The shaman interpreted these as the ghosts of loved ones attempting to communicate. To Dipper, they were the dangerous side effects of a potent drug. The rescue mission was well underway when Mabel noticed his flinches and frantic, darting eyes, much too late to do much more than tell him to stay back and out of sight, to leave if he could.

Mabel stalked further ahead, ducking around old crates and rusty machinery, leaving Dipper crouched behind an old forklift. She wasn’t gone thirty seconds when a scream only he heard pierced the air. Fear for his sister and rage at the thought of her injured took over. He ran in after her. His flustered entrance startled the hostages Mabel had untied after taking down two of the guards with boxing and glitter bombs of her own design. The hostages' shouts alerted the other guards.

Events turn blurry yet vivid from that point for Dipper. The smell of gunpowder and blood. Screams and shouting, both real and in his mind. Him trying to find Mabel amidst the spray of bullets from police and militia. Everyone running everywhere and nothing made sense.

Suddenly, Dipper was on the ground. A dirty teen with bright brown eyes glared down at him. The boy had a knife. He raised it. Dipper gasped and twisted to roll him off. Before the boy could scream or defend himself, Dipper smashed his face in with a brick that he didn’t remember grabbing. The kid fell silent after the first hit. Something cracked after the second. Blood squelched out on the third. He swore he saw the boy's soul vacate the corpse.

Someone screamed his name. He turned and ducked. Two bullets grazed his cheek and scalp instead of his eye and brain. Mabel shouts at him again as she banged two heads together and tripped a third gunman coming at her side. Red smears stain her torn skirt and blouse. Dust clouds her tangled hair and she’s missing a shoe. She’s panting as their wide eyes lock. She doesn’t see the pointed at her back.

Dipper shouts and lobs his bloody brick across the room. She ducks and turns in time to see the brick hit the man’s shoulder. He grunts and staggers. She follows with a hard punch to the groin and wrestles his gun away by the time Dipper reaches her side. She points the gun at the downed soldier. She’s wheezing. Tears and blood mar her cheeks. Dipper quietly takes the gun from her trembling hands and smacks the man’s head with the butt end.

BOOM! The wall next to them explodes. Local police and proper military storm in through the dust and debris. Mabel grabs her brother and they both drop to their knees. She’s shaking worse than a sapling in a storm. The dust dances for Dipper, tracing colorful patterns in the air. Mabel’s hair smells like blood and strawberries. He wonders if he could ever separate the two after this as three soldiers run over and haul them from the building.

They’re rushed over to a medic. She jots down a quick list of their injuries during triage. Though painful, none were life-threatening or permanent, so the medic moves on to patients in more critical condition.

They were lucky. At least twelve died across all sides and more suffered severe injury. Two of Mabel’s students and three of her colleagues came out with dark green blankets over them. Brown stains show where blood seeped through. Dipper couldn’t do anything but hold his sister and pet her bloody hair as she wailed.

Peace Corps pulled all members from the area after they made their statements and the local police closed the investigation. Dipper quit the study program and returned home with Mabel. As much as he wanted to, Mabel wouldn't let him comfort her, and he couldn't seek it from her. Their friends and parents did their best, but it wasn't the same. He knew it was due to his drug use, but Mabel's averted eyes and pinched smile whenever he approached hurt worse than the scrapes and bullet wounds. He didn’t blame her. If he’d been of sound mind, maybe fewer people would have died.

About a month afterward, Mabel crept into his room at their parents’ house in the middle of the night. Dipper lay in bed wide-awake, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think how well the brick fit in his hand. How easily it fractured a skull. She climbed into bed with him and whispered a quiet apology. He nuzzled her hair in reply. It smelled like watermelon now.

The twins mended their relationship from there. If Dipper were honest, he and Mabel had started drifting apart since college. But the incident drew them back together, almost as well their first summer in Gravity Falls. Although, he never voiced that thought. Nor did he confess about the boy he’d beat to death. The boy with bright eyes and not old enough to graduate high school.

India also wasn’t the last time Dipper killed. His research into the supernatural and shady side of humanity forced him to pull the trigger, lead pursuers into traps, and sabotage. All to protect himself and his family. All kept Dipper up at night, but the first boy’s crushed face haunted him most.

He never told Mabel or anyone else in his family about what he’d had to do. He couldn’t bear the look he was sure they’d give him. Pity, disgust... fear. He often wondered if he had other choices, options he missed in the chaos of the moment. Even if both his Grunkles had committed similar crimes, he knew they wanted better from him and Mabel. So instead, he confessed his sins to a damn triangular statue, because the dead can’t tell secrets and a statue can’t judge.

 |>|>|>  

Dipper dropped the mop in the bucket. The suds popped and fizzled, covering subdued laughter as Dipper’s shoulders shook. He took a deep breath when his laughter died down and ran a hand through his knotted hair. “What I wouldn’t give for some Time-Tape,” he told the humming fridge covered in family photos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure an editor would make me ax this whole chapter, but I've never done flashbacks before and I thought all this info was relevant or will be at some point to the story so I went for it. It might be some time before I post again as I've barely started writing chapter 9 and lots of things are coming up this and next month to devour my time and attention. Please be patient, and as always, thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you're so inclined! Makes me feel like I'm not shouting into the abyss.  
> (Also, I hopefully figured out how to post pictures so comics on a diff story should be forthcoming to make up for lagging updates!


	10. Rainy Day Errands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble is mounting in town and in Dipper's personal life and he needs to solve them... but not before running some errands.

Dipper ran. Torrential rain blinded him, soaking him to the bone. Dense mud sucked him down with each footfall, stripping what little strength he had left. He stumbled. Thick muck pinned him like poured concrete. He couldn’t see anything but red sludge and rain. Burning flesh scent wafted through the air, making his stomach growl. He struggled until something round and hard jabbed his arm, head, and cheek.

_Gun!_

The solid oak chair thudded to the floor. Dipper grabbed the first thing his hand landed on. It was light, flimsy, but he’d make do. His attackers weren’t smart enough to tie him up, but they’d taken his glasses. He tried to squint and glare at the blob shape of his attacker. His stance wide and ready. He tensed when the assailant waved and spoke.

“Woah, dude! Don’t dusterbuster me.” Soos chuckled. It was the playful kind, like an older brother teasing their younger sibling. But it had a subtle tension to it. The whole room had it.

Dipper squinted harder at the figure across the table. The silhouette definitely matched Soos. He glanced at the weapon in his hand. Indeed, it was a Dust Buster feather sweeper. His shoulders sagged as he realized he wasn’t in danger. That he’d made a scene. Again. “Who ya gonna call?” he muttered, trying to laugh as he set it down on the table. He heard someone snort from the kitchen as he picked up his chair off the expensive Persian rug. It wasn’t damaged. The tension eased in the room as the sound of sizzling bacon and eggs took center stage again.

“So, uh, the bed not comfy for ya Dipper?” Soos asked as he replaced the broom in the kitchen closet.

“It’s fine,” Dipper replied, rubbing his face to hide the blush. “Just trouble sleeping again.” He picked his glasses up, cleaned, and replaced them on his face. Everything hurt. He often fell asleep sitting, but it always left a crick in his neck and a sore back. At least he managed two or three hours of sleep.

“Okay. Well, you can always sleep on the couch next time, or Abuelita’s chair.” Soos pointed to the overstuffed purple chair between the window and the fireplace, his grandmother occupying its bulk like a throw pillow.

Abuelita looked up from her knitting and smiled. “No. No,” she said politely before returning to her work.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Dipper said while Soos called over to his wife to inform her Dipper was awake.

“Yes, I can hear that. Is everything alright?” Melody replied. Dipper watched her in awe through the serving hatch as she masterfully flipped sizzling scrambled eggs. Careful flicks of her wrist sent fluffy yellow fragments pinwheeling through the air, only for them to land gracefully back onto her skillet. His stomach growled in anticipation as he returned the cleaning supplies to the broom closet.

Melody glanced his way, “Dipper, are you alright?” she asked again. “Sweet Potatoes! What happened to your hand?” She gestured with the egg-filled pan at Dipper’s haphazardly wrapped hand as he stifled his morning-breath yawn.

Ice dropped in Dipper’s stomach. He covered the bandaged hand with the other. “I scrapped it on a rock when I tripped in the woods yesterday,” he answered without looking at her. “But yes, everything’s fine.”

She hummed like a mother that’s heard it all, “If you’re sure.” Dipper forced a smile and eye contact with his nod before checking the fridge for something to drink. “I hope cleaning wasn’t your way of saying my house is dirty,” Melody said as she dumped the scrambled eggs on a large serving plate. Julio, on toast duty, snorted when Dipper almost dropped the orange juice.

“Absolutely not! It clears my head better than tossing in bed all night. Didn't find a speck of dust.”

Soos chuckled as he pulled out silverware for everyone. “It’s funny cuz you used to hate cleaning… and laundry… and bathing.” Julio laughed again and cycled more bread through the toaster.

“Yes well, growing up did have its benefits.” It was actually Mabel who grew up to be the less tidy of the two. However, being a mother of two and a kindergarten teacher, Dipper didn’t fault her.

“Mm. Well, washing up and setting the table will clear your head enough for breakfast,” Melody instructed. Dipper complied with a nod as she loaded up plate with bacon.

Frigid rain pounded against the glass doors leading to the deck by the time Dipper finished helping set the table. A steaming mountain of eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, and fruit burdened the Oak dining table. Marcel and Tristan slowly shoveled eggs and bacon into their mouths between yawns. Julio, accustomed to waking early but denied his morning jog by the inclement weather, chatted animatedly with Soos. Melody, Abuelita and Dipper ate at a quieter, more reasonable pace.

Dipper chewed his bacon, watching as the low clouds and sheets of rain almost obscured the forest surrounding The Shack. If it weren’t for the occasional brave bird singing, the house would have felt like an island, the only speck of life and warmth in any direction. Although the hot breakfast, cinnamon scented candles, and crackling fireplace in the background made an enticing argument to stay inside forever, he sent a silent thanks to Mabel for sneaking his heavy coat into his bag.

 _I hope Bill can't catch a cold in his current state._ He forced the fork into his mouth as surprise and disgust one-two punched him in the gut. The orange juice tasted extra sour as he downed it to chase away the mixed emotions.

“Dipper,” Melody placed her fork next to her half-full plate, her expression pensive. “Are you having trouble sleeping because of what’s happening here?” The table grew quiet and her gaze met Soos’ before boring back into Dipper.

Dipper swallowed hard on his orange juice as he waved his hand. “This is normal Dipper insomnia. Happens a lot when I jump timezones. It’s too early to fret about the Falls...” He put on his best disarming smile and took another bite to emphasize that all was well with the world. A third emotion of guilt churned his stomach hard. _I’ve been too focused on Bill and Johnson._ Melody nodded and returned to her breakfast after she offered to make an old family sleepy tea for him.

Dipper’s U-watch dinged on his wrist as he thanked Melody. He tapped the watch’s center expecting a text message from Wendy asking about the day’s plan. Instead, an irritated emoji popped up, followed by an accusatory text.

[Xander (8:28AM): What did you say to Mabel? She was up all night knitting a Storm Sweater and demolished her Queen Mabel!]

“Shit-ake Mushrooms…”

The teens laughed while Melody leveled a reproachful glare at him. “Mind your food groups at the table please,” she said and pointedly buttered another slice of toast.

“Sorry,” Dipper muttered while devising a response.

“What’s up dude?” Soos asked, leaning closer from across the table.

 _Another complication._ “You know, kids being kids. Getting into everything.” Dipper rolled his eyes as if it was normal. It was true, but it still left him wondering how many little lies it took to make a monster. _At least she’ll have something new to sell on Artsy._

Melody chuckled, smirking at her own boys, “Oh yes, I know how troublesome kids can be.”

“What? I was perfect, you must mean these two,” Tristan boasted. The other two laughed and started a friendly shoving game while stealing each other’s food.

“Come on guys, settle down or start cleaning up breakfast,” Soos said. Abuelita nodded as she added more jelly to her eggs.

“Looks like Mabel and I’s Mom Rant call will be early this week,” Melody chimed in while smiling at Marcel. The teen looked away and sunk lower in his chair at the jeers of his brothers.

“Think I should call Xander? Ouh, we haven’t had a good Dad Rant since our last one.”

“No need to rush and call them. If it was bad, they wouldn’t have complained to me first,” Dipper responded, eating more eggs to look placid. They were starting to taste like salted cardboard as he lost his appetite. “Besides, isn’t today a busy day for Shack tours or family day?” His stomach further knotted at the way Melody raised a brow at him.

“AH, Mi Amor!” Soos clapped the table, “Isn’t today the Estate Sale for the spooky old mansion in Corvalis?

“Oh Beans,” she smacked her fist to palm. “But we have a lot of errands that needed done... and Julio’s game... and Marcel’s rehearsal.” She bit her lip as she looked over her boys, “With the town the way it is though… We should stay honey.”

“What, you can’t miss my game!”

“I can walk to rehearsal.”

“Do I still have to clean the house?”

“Dudes, if you’re all done eating, start cleaning up. Thanks.” Soos sat by Melody to a chorus of grumbles and scraping plates. Abuelita scooted her chair back and pulled out her knitting needles as Soos took Melody’s hands.

While Soos tried to comfort and convince his wife, Dipper mulled over a dozen potential replies to Xander. Most sounded like the weak excuses they were, or downright suspicious. _I should keep quiet. Anything I say will be used against me in Judge Kitty Kitty Meow Meow Face-Swartstein’s court._ Still, he knew he had to say something. The last time he’d ignored a similar text, he’d come home to find all his stuff packed and had to convince them to let him stay.

[Dipper (8:36AM):What am I accused of?] It was a fine line but at least it would keep him from saying anything contradictory or extra incriminating.

[Dipper (8:36AM): Also, is she alright? That last batch was strong.] Grunkle Stan would be proud of the misdirection.

“Maybe Dipper can help us out? You’d be cool with that, right dude?”

“Hm? Yeah, sure. Wait,” Dipper looked up from his message, “What do you want me to do?”

“Look after the boys today while we’re gone.”

“And do some errands for us? But only if it doesn’t mess with your investigating and stuff,” Soos finished with a thumbs up.

“Oh, sure. As long as you and they don’t mind coming with me around town and to McGucket’s.”

“Boys,” Melody called, “Do you want to go with Uncle Dipper, or open up the giftshop and cafe today?”

“Uncle Dipper!” Marcel yelled.

“Duh,” Tristan and Julio replied in unison.

Melody nodded. “There. See, tyrant moms don’t give options.”

Dipper ignored the barb rather than delve into the subtle power struggle between mother and grandmother-in-law. “Though uh,” he glanced out at the curtain of rain, “could I borrow one of your cars for the day?”

“Oh sure, no problem!” Soos said, looking away from Abuelita’s intent knitting.

“I’ll write up a list of what needs done today,” Melody said as she stood, “If something does happen though, like if they teleport or start to float away or—,”

Soos placed a hand on her shoulder, “They’ll be fine Mi Amore. They’d love the floating and the whole town would be looking for them if they disappear.” He gave Dipper a thumbs up, “And who better to know first and lead the charge than this dude?”

Dipper nodded, “Remember, we’ve all handled worse than gravity and spatial distortions.”

Melody took a deep breath and nodded at them with a smile.

“McGucket is definitely in town though, and not at another Mad Engineer Convention?” Dipper asked as Melody joined the boys in the kitchen. He thought he’d seen one of McGucket’s prototype cars around town on the drive into the Falls.

“Oh man,  I remember when he brought Tristan, Julio, and me to one of those. Everyone thought I was one of his experiments,” Soos laughed, “But yeah dude, pretty sure he’s still here. Heard he was working on something at the mansion. It blacked out the town for an hour two weeks ago. He made a neat holographic apology and bought everyone a jar of Nutritella. Hey, think Marcel will want to go to the next MEC he invites us to?”

“I'd imagine so,” Dipper replied as he activated his glasses and examined the police reports, his frown growing as he scrolled. _Why isn’t the blackout listed?_ Apology or not, it was still an event. _Whatever he’s working on could be the root of the problem._

Soos’ snap derailed his search. “I got your glasses done dude!” he hustled away to his work room. “Wasn’t easy to do all the little bits with my big ol’ muscle fingers,” he explained as he returned with a small case, “But they turn on again and stuff. So, mission accomplished.”

Dipper accepted the box and switched out the ones he was wearing.  “Thanks Soos, I appreciate it…” He eyed the silver tape on the right leg of the frame, “is the duck tape necessary though?” Sure, Dipper was the epitome of a nerd, but he didn't need to look the part again.

“Yeah… sorry dude,” Soos rubbed his head, “I got the chip fixed well enough. But my glue would have messed with the circuitry. If you don’t like the silver, I’m sure I’ve got a color you’ll love!” Soos waved for him to follow into his workroom, where he built the best manufactured attractions in the Shack.

On shelves labeled “Spare Parts” sat enough assorted prosthetic animal limbs, eyes, torsos, and other items to create an impossible number of B-roll movie monsters. Buckets, tubs, and tool chests around the room contained the bits, parts, and machinery to make them move, if so desired. If Soos had his way, it would always be desired. Old comic books and dimestore sci-fi novels covered two of the largest tables, with inspiration waiting on every page. Even Stanford had admitted to the creativity and quality of the craftsmanship.

With a flourish, Soos opened an incongruous white china cabinet next to the door. Dipper knew what was coming yet whistled all the same. “Did you manage to find more?” Row after crammed row of various duct tapes jammed into cubbies greeted the two men.

Soos’ eyes lit up as he pulled out three. The piles wobbled, threatening to spill out in a glorious sticky mess. “Yeah dude! BuyRite only sold these for a few weeks before they discontinued them!” He held up an obnoxious neon purple and green plaid patterned roll, a horrifyingly adorable My Little Monster one, and a not quite gold or copper metallic number.

Dipper smirked, “Can’t imagine why.”

“I know right?” Soos replaced the rolls, “But any in here you want until I can find a glue that’ll work with your fancy specs?”

Dipper browsed the cabinet. In the left corner, the glittery teal and purple from the time Mabel took up the Duck Tape Prom challenge caught his eye. Finally, he settled on a thin gold roll. Soos switched out the old tape for the gold, adding it to both legs to look more the style than a repair. They felt a little clunkier on his ears and the tape snagged some hair. But, they looked surprisingly classy at first glance.

“Ah, Dipper,” Melody called from the serving hatch when Soos and Dipper returned to the living room, “I texted you the list of errands for today. I ordered them by priority so don’t worry if the bottom few aren’t done.”

Dipper activated his glasses to check the list. A few seconds longer than normal passed before the list loaded. It was a short list, all things considered.

  1. Marcel’s Play Rehearsal 10-2PM (Community Theater)
  2. Take Abuelita to Rumors Salon (usually 11AM, pick up at Sunny’s Field Cafe around 3PM
  3. Julio’s lacrosse game 6-8PM (Trembley Field or HS gym if moved -make sure he has all his gear!)
  4. Post Office (pick up and drop off)
  5. Grocery
    1. French Fries-crispies
    2. Leeks and Parsnips
    3. Nectarines
    4. Fennel Seeds
    5. Cannellini and Pinto Beans
    6. Cider Vinegar
    7. Raspberries and Blueberries
    8. Red Potatoes
    9. 7lbs Salmon
    10. Zingler’s Hot Chai Tea
  6. Pharmacy
  7. Dry-cleaners
  8. Library-return or renew books
  9. Pick up new MS flyers from print shop



Dipper nodded and closed the list after checking the time. 8:53AM. They’d have to hustle if Marcel wanted to be on time to rehearsal. “What about the Shack? Isn’t Saturday busy?”

“Normally. But, we knew about the Creepy Mansion sale for weeks now,” Soos answered while helping Abuelita to her bedroom to change from her blue flower robe and ducky slippers.

“We put a notice on the Shack Site about today’s closure. Anyone shows up unannounced, they’ll be disappointed. But we left rain-check coupons on the door so they’ll come back another day.” Melody came into the dining room drying her hands with a dish towel. “So you’re alright to take care of those for us?” She smiled when Dipper nodded, “Ok, well you have our number if anything comes up.

“And remember,” she leaned in close, “Soos and I will be scarier than anything in this town if something happens to my boys.” Her sweet smile made the threat seem more dangerous than joking.

“Everything will be fine.” Dipper tried to smile back, “Focus on enjoying yourselves and buying cool stuff for the Shack.” He ducked past his hosts, before Soos could add his own warning, to the privacy of a quick shower.

Using one hand to wash while trying to keep the other dry wasn’t a challenge Dipper had wanted to repeat since he’d broken his wrist from a nasty fall. But it was worth it to avoid the agony of soap in a fresh burn. While he sloshed a spicy “Cinnabirch” two-in-one shampoo through his hair, he brainstormed methods of how to track town-wide gravity anomalies.

Using eye witness reports were proving inadequate. Long exposure camera shots would be useless as it wouldn’t cover near enough space. Attaching cameras and equipment to Gnomes was a great way to lose said equipment. He could call in a few favors from his more experienced hacker acquaintances. See if they could pull satellite images. But that could take days and he still didn’t know what filters would be useful as the anomalies were invisible.

Scrapped plans continued to build as he pulled on a Forest Green fitted sweater, clean jeans, and his trusty black hiking boots. While Wendy had approved of his flannel style during his awkward teenage years, Mabel hadn’t. Especially after it fell out of fashion again. He still appreciated the pattern and look, but agreed to proper variety as he entered adulthood.

He slung his winter coat over his arm, about to walk back downstairs he noticed his scarf was missing. A glance around the room didn’t reveal it. Checking under the bed and dresser didn’t help. He leaned under the desk. THWACK. He grabbed his head while sputtering obscenities after remembering the scarf's location. _Great, I left it with him. How could I have. Mabel’s going to be furious. It was his fault... I just wanted to.... Damnit. Shit, what could he do with it?_ Ripping or breaking it was the obvious answer. Countless strangled bodies was a close second.

He grabbed his coat again and dropped down the stairs two at a time. “Whoa, no need to rush dude,” Soos said as he pressed against the wall to avoid their collision on the last step, “We’re real cazh, remember?” Dipper stopped like a red light as the day’s plans caught up with him. His scarf would have to wait if he wanted to keep his secret.

While Soos lumbered upstairs with a pile of clean towels. The rest of the family stood in the hallway leading to the garage. The boys waited impatiently while their mother fussed over their hair or straightened their shirts. Marcel’s black leather jacket and boots spoke to Dipper’s preferred style, but with a rockier edge. The jacket also served to hide a poorly etched tattoo of Marcel’s favorite band, “Ancient Terror,” on his left side. The ink was courtesy of Trevor, a friend in Marcel’s circle who was much in need of practice. Marcel had sworn Dipper to secrecy after showing him.

Tristan’s outfit had a similar vibe. Where his younger brother had chosen black leathers, though, he had opted instead for a charcoal blazer overtop an edgy anime graphic tee and dark jeans ripped just enough to make Melody frown. Most assumed that the headphones around his neck only blasted thumping bass and screamo. Only his closest friends knew that Tristan listened to everything from jpop, to classical, to salsa, and could give an admirable critique of them all.

Julio, oddly enough, received the most trouble from his parents for his attire. He loved the Mystery Shack and all things supernatural. He almost always wore Shack shirts under his hoodies, often taken straight from the rack or storage without asking. His favorite was the vintage one Dipper had stumbled upon some years ago and given to him as a 13th birthday present. He also wore a hat with every outfit. Dipper tried not to think of Julio as a younger version of himself. But it was hard when Julio followed him around and badgered him with questions. Exactly as he had Great Uncle Ford.

“Everything ok Dipper?” Melody asked as she turned from adjusting Julio’s cap -who turned it askew again.-

“Yeah,” Dipper sighed, tugging at his shirt collar. “I remembered I dropped my scarf in the woods yesterday.” Omitting was not the same as lying.

“Aw, I hope you find it. Mabel made that for you right?” Dipper’s tight lipped frown was answer enough. “Well, if you’re ready, the boys and Abuelita are all set.” She turned back to her boys, absently re-adjusting Julio’s Star cap, “Behave for Uncle Dipper now. He tells me otherwise and none of you will be happy. Comprende?” The boys nodded and muttered their assents. Melody and Soos thanked Dipper again as he and the boys shuffled out to the garage.

Seasonal supplies climbed to the ceiling on the wall adjacent the house. Stacked on shelves next to the decorations were old toys and sealed cleaners and paints. The wall towards the Shack held most of the business’ supplies, including overflow from Soos’ workshop. Dull, glassy eyes from a practice taxidermy creature stared at Dipper over a cardboard box as he waited for Abuelita to shuffle ahead of him. The steel shelving left enough room for the family’s electric minivan, sedan, and old golf cart. Dipper’s precious bike sat wedged between the garage door and cart.

The garage was also one of the direct paths into the new Shack for the family. So they installed a cheap, yet durable, carpet on the narrow raised walkway. The kind that scrapped dust from shoes but was easy to vacuum.

Tristan helped Abuelita into the passenger seat as Dipper and the others slipped into the turquoise vehicle. The van smelled of day old pizza, unwashed sports gear and, moth balls. Dipper tried not to wrinkle his nose as he adjusted the mirrors and driver’s seat while the boys settled into their chosen seats. Tristan sat in the right captain's chair, Julio in the left, and Marcel all but lounged in the backseat.

“Everyone buckled in?” A chorus of automatic yeses answered. The car  would have alerted him if they hadn’t, but there was a humanity that Dipper appreciated in the question. Dipper inserted the key fob into the dash center and pushed the start key under the steering wheel. The car remained silent. Judging.

“Your phone dude,” Marcel shouted from the back after a moment of Dipper staring at the panel. The man rolled his eyes as he dug his phone from his pocket and placed it face down in the groove on the dashboard. It dinged in approval as it connected and the car turned over and revved up. Previous anti-texting and driving ads failed so car companies added their own methods. Ten years later, it was still controversial.

With the van started, and the buffer sensors assuring his bike was safe, Dipper reversed out of the garage.

The van’s external thermostat read 35 degrees Fahrenheit, keeping the roads and rain above freezing. It was one less thing to worry while Dipper wrestled the steering wheel to do a three point turn in the driveway with the tank-like van. The buffer sensors binged twice when he came close to the petunias and closing garage door. He ignored Tristan’s quip about offering to drive.  Two minutes down the winding road, Dipper already missed his bike.

While Dipper appreciated escaping frigid downpours and buffeting winds, and the heated pleather a bonus, the seatbelt felt weird. Not wearing a helmet felt weird. Sitting stationary was weird. Temperature control compared to wind whipping and roaring around him was weird.

His bike didn’t constantly try to correct his steering like a nagging backseat driver either. _Seriously_ ? _Why not buy the full-automatic one at this rate._ Granted, he was grateful. Being chauffeured around by the van would have been more unnerving,  regardless of their 99 percent safety rating. Even with near perfect reliability, auto-pilot wasn't designed for the sudden weirdness of Gravity Falls. Having the ability to make emergency maneuvers in realtime had saved native residents countless times.

Three different keychains hung from the rearview mirror as Dipper glanced back at the boys. A question mark from the shack, an old macaroni picture frame of the boys as toddlers, and a crystal butterfly. The traditional rearview compared to a video feed on the windshield, dated the vehicle more than its lack of full automation.

Tristan bounced to the beat of his headphones that were loud enough to pick out the steady bass. Marcel stared out the window looking bored but his foot tapped to the beat. Julio flipped through his Blue Sun Rising magazine. Dipper started when Abuelita leaned forward and turned the radio onto a robust Latin station. The song shrieked its crescendo before falling silent with a quiet number following. It was similar enough to a late night drive with Mabel and the sleeping kids to bring a soft curve to his lips.

They came to the end of the private drive for the Shack that branched from the main road in and out of Gravity Falls. After waiting for three cars and one hauler truck to splash past, Dipper turned right on to the road.

While most United States roads neared completion of their Solar Panel LED upgrades, Gravity Falls’ roads remained dull, spray painted asphalt. It made sense when the town was usually in cloudy shade and the forest kept most of the sunlight for itself. It also felt right to have road bits pinging off the van’s exterior. Made the town more rustic, more real.

Several muddy roads trail off from the main stretch, lumber haulers their main patrons. Lumberjacking in Gravity Falls was unpredictable due to the forest flora and fauna. However, since the late 2020’s, the lumber industry struggled to turn a profit after hemp was finally legalized across the board. Almost anything made from wood pulp could be made easier and cheaper with hemp and was far more renewable. Thus the environmentalists took to it like Mabel to glitter. Furniture and construction remained lumber’s biggest economy. But, new building materials and advances in self-replicating machines put it greater jeopardy than hemp. It was the main reason Manly Dan opened the Manly Mancave and Gym.

Pounding rain eased as the cover of the forest impeded the plummeting water’s descent. Small rivulets raced down the windows of the aerodynamic van as Dipper turned onto route 13. Once the light turned green, Dipper made a quick beeline into the lot across the street. Once the location for the Tent of Telepathy, now stood the Gravity Falls Community Theater.

Gideon paid for it, “out of the goodness of his lil’ ol’ heart so that the town could have some prime quality culture.” Also to perform or direct his often terrible plays. Dipper grimaced as he pulled into a parking spot. Kara played a milk maid in the previous summer’s Gleeful Production, “A Southern Belle” or some such. The main female lead’s name was “Miss Ma Belle Amour”. Mabel hadn’t tried out for the part and almost yanked Kara, but her daughter whined until her mom relented. As anticipated, most of the older residents loved it.

Julio and Tristan poked and jeered Marcel as he climbed out of the van. He swatted back at them. The three chuckled as Marcel flipped them off before slamming the side door shut. Abuelita rolled down her window before Dipper had his finger on the button. She leaned out with a scowl and raised brow. Marcel ducked his head with a meek apology. A quick peck on her cheek earned him an approving smile before he bolted out of the rain and into the Community Theater.

“Alright, one down,” Dipper said as he looked over to Abuelita, “Rumor’s Salon on Redcap, right?” Abuelita nodded. Dipper pulled the car into reverse. As he clicked on the left turn signal, the Sheriff’s car pulled into the parking lot.

Dipper nodded to Gideon and the sheriff tipped his hat up. His grin made Dipper’s stomach lurch. However, that was his normal reaction to the folksy sheriff so didn’t think much about it as he pulled out onto Route 13.

Vehicles large and small whizzed past in the opposite direction on the two lane road. A few honked or waved, recognizing the Question Mark decal on the side of the van. It made Dipper smile to see the Shack and its family in such good standing with the town. His smile turned to a smirk as he remembered some of the less kind gestures that other drivers had made towards Grunkle Stan years ago.

Mile markers dotted the drive, one drifting by every other minute or so as the van made its way towards the center of town. They provided a modicum of reassurance to wary drivers where signal interference from the spaceship and various mineral deposits made GPS navigation spotty at best. The markers, painted numbers bright and iridescent against the rural backdrop of the Falls, had that old-fashioned reliability that modern tech could never seem to capture. Simply memorize the markers' locations and no amount of weirdness could steer you wrong. A chill crept up Dipper’s spine as the markers counted down. Obviously, it only indicated their turn onto Rummer Road was fast approaching. But to him it was also counting down to the inevitable reunion Dipper had to have with Bill.

One left turn and a quarter mile later, Dipper pulled onto the street parking in front of Rumor’s Salon. He pulled his phone from the console after turning off the van. His jaw dropped as alerts from twelve messages and missed calls as well as twenty emails from the past fifteen minutes hit his phone, glasses, and watch in surround sound. _So the car puts it in Airplane mode or something. Suppose that’s effective._

Julio was already out of the car and helping Abuelita shuffle into Rumor’s Salon by the time his devices quieted.

“Yeah,” Tristan said with a sympathetic smirk, “The newer vans added an automatic driving message to stop that.” He hopped out of the van and closed the door.

 _Doubt that would have stopped Mabel._ With a frown, he opened his messages, expecting them to be from an increasingly agitated sister.

[Wendy (9:55AM): Dip, I have to fill-in at dad’s gym, so I can’t help today. Sorry!]

[Wendy (9:56AM): Actually, you should come check it out. Pretty sure it’s related to what’s been happening in town.]

[Wendy (10:01AM): Hello? You still asleep or should I be worried?]

Dipper skimmed through the rest of Wendy’s texts in vain to see if she specified anything. The rest came from Xander and two from mom. _Great… Mabel’s on a warpath if she’s already brought in mom._

He called Wendy.

“Hey Dipper, ya coming dude?” Tristan rapped on the window, “Oh, sorry,” he backpedaled and joined Julio under his umbrella when he saw Dipper’s phone.

“Hey man. Back from the dead?” Wendy answered on the third ring.

“Sorry, apparently cars silence phones now. Can you tell me-,”

“Cars? Thought you drove a-,”

“I’m doing errands with the teens. Soos and Melody had an estate sale outside of town.”

Wendy hummed in understanding. “Good day for leaving the bike home. Anyway, come over to the gym when you have a few minutes. Gotta go. Bye! Yes ma’am, how can.” The line clicked off.

A few stray drops smacked Dipper’s cheek as he exited the van. Julio finished shaking his umbrella before closing it. The sky seemed satisfied with its downpour for the moment, but gray skies and dark clouds hugging the valley cliffs threatened more soon. Dipper sighed. He had remembered his heavy coat, but not an umbrella. _Normally my scarf is good enough._

“Hey Dipper,” Tristan strolled up, “wanna check out the Arcade? .GIFfany and Rumble had a new delivery come in last week!” He made a valiant effort to hide his enthusiasm.

Dipper cringed, “Have they changed suits yet or they still using those Four Days at Frank's devil furries?”

“They changed those,” Julio called from the Good Pharmacy display window.

“But...they still look like something from a Spoopy Pasta,” Tristan finished with a wince and hand wiggle.

“Fantastic,” Dipper deadpanned, “Well, we might have time later, but Wendy added another stop to our list.” He pulled the list up on his glasses and added the gym for sanity’s sake. “So, we’re going to have to divide and conquer.” The teens snapped to attention and mock saluted. “Julio, you’re on dry cleaning and pharmacy duty. Tristan, flyer pick up and post office. I’ll take the library books back and grab the groceries. Shouldn’t take more than an hour. We’ll meet back here at the van. Then we’ll check out-,”

“The arcaaaade,” Julio interjected.

“Manly Dan’s, THEN the arcade. I’ll phone McGucket to see if he’s available today and we’ll hopefully be there and back before 3 to grab Abuelita and Marcel. Then your game’s at… 6 Julio. Everyone understand the plan?” The boys mock saluted as he closed the hub on his glasses.

“Dipper, one question,” Tristan said as Dipper pulled out the library books from the trunk. “What happens if one of us teleports? How will the others know?”

“Duh, we’ll know if one of us doesn’t come back in an hour. That’s why he set the time limit dude.”

“Ok, but what are we supposed to do?”

“Um… That’s one of the reasons I need to talk to McGucket. Only Wendy and I have teleported so far as I’ve heard and that was in the forest. So it’s still likely a localized thing,” he tried to sound reassuring. Dipper frowned as his mind started racing again. He pulled the last book out of the trunk, uncovering the car’s large emergency kit. The books landed with a thump as he yanked the bag open. “Haha! Here,” he said and handed each of the boys a flare gun. Over-Prepared Soos to the rescue. “Something happens, fire it straight up into the air. Someone’s bound to see it and come help you.”

The boys shrugged but pocketed the flares. It wasn’t the best solution, but it was all they had at present. _As long as they don’t start a fire, Melody won’t kill me._ Dipper turned his back as the boys walked off, rubbing his face as he tried to reassure himself with his own logic.

While most of Gravity Falls home and businesses had physical and technological facelifts over the years, the library still retained much of its old charm. Musty archival and scientific documents sat in the lower levels with better environmental controls and security. Recycled wood, instead of metal, composed the new additions and wings for computers, modern books, and community space. The bright lighting and open atmosphere made the refurbished library a favored place to congregate across all social circles.

After a quick, yet fruitless hunt through the library’s new electronic catalog for historical references to gravity and spacial anomalies, Dipper stopped by the Return Desk. Ser Luffingham, the Werepup librarian greeted Dipper with a yip and smile as he scanned the Ramierez’s borrowed books. Mrs. Wrym had been wary of letting the Werepup onto the staff several years ago. However, the young man had proven an invaluable asset, particularly when it came to fetching requested books. With the books returned, Dipper bid Ser Luffinham good day and trudged back out into town.

Thankfully, the library had added an awning as part of their renovations. Dipper stood under it, staring dumbfounded at the sky. The darkest clouds still hugged the edges of town with only a thin covering of light gray stratus clouds over Gravity Falls proper. The deluge of rain hammering the ground in front of him missed the drizzle memo. To add to the disconnect, the sheet of rain moved across the ground and had a distinct start and stopping point. It was as if a literal hole had been torn in the sky and the gods were pouring buckets of water through in while pulling it along a rail.

Dipper saw a few other people watching the event and had enough sense to activate the recording app on his glasses. He recorded about fifteen seconds before the hole in the sky zipped up and the deluge abruptly ended. A few more people came out to stare at the sky and talk with the closest person about this latest event. He wasn’t the only one to make the connection to the darker clouds around the cliffs. Mostly it was younger and newer residents. _At least they’re making connections and understanding the nature of Gravity Falls,_ Dipper thought as he flipped up his jacket collar and stepped out into nature’s normal drizzle.

Cold drops make it past his collar and slipped down his neck. It wasn’t as effective as his scarf. He clicked his tongue thinking about where it was. Granted, as much as Bill deserved it, he felt an iota of guilt gnaw at him for assuming the worst of him. _I mean… the town is still standing. He likely has nothing to do with the problems happening right now._ His guts still crawled but refused to be persuaded to his optimistic side.

There was also the matter of the many messages from his mother and Xander, and the lack of messages from Mabel. He still hadn’t thought of any viable explanations that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. _Doesn’t matter now anyway. They’d only believe me if Mabel gave the all clear._ A long stream of mist gave life to his sigh. _Sometimes having a twin know you too well is a curse._

One ray of light brightened Dipper’s day as he passed the newish bicycle store on the way to the grocery market. “The Cycle of Life” displayed their newest bike in their display window, The Pegasus -so fast you’ll fly. Granted, that claim may or may not be literal in Gravity Falls, but what caught his attention was the set of backpacks next to the bike. They were smaller than his normal style, but would be sturdier and have better capacity that his current destroyed one sitting back in his room.   _Wonder if I can make Bill pay me back?_ He wondered as he bought the cheapest one in the store for 140 dollars.

The rest of the hour spent in the grocery store was boring. Normal boring. Mundane. He was accustomed to at least one strange thing or another happening at least several times a day. Granted, a lot of what was once considered strange had become the new normal. He thanked the Selkie for ringing up his items and waved to Mr. Hazmath, the occasionally exploding math teacher for the junior high. After placing the groceries in the home delivery bin, he hustled back to the van.

Dipper leaned against the Turquoise van, taking advantage of the lull in the rain and munching on the Pentagrahams he impulse bought in a fit of nostalgia. Perhaps they changed the recipe, or it was him growing old, but they tasted more like salty cardboard now than in his youth. He checked his watch. 10:54AM. _Still a few minutes until the boys should be back._

He activated the phone app on his glasses and scrolled to McGucket’s name. A double blink dialed and he waited for someone to answer.

“Goooood daaaay! This is  Despin answering on behalf of McGucket. How may I help you?”

“Oh,” Dipper paused, trying to remember if he’d met Despin or if McGucket had scared off another Admin Assistant. “This is Dipper, I’m calling,”

“Yes, Helloooo, how are you Dipperrrr?”

“Fine, thanks. Is McGucket at the mansion today? I need to meet with him if he’s available.” Dipper never thought he’d have to make an appointment with a secretary to meet the ol kook.

“Ooooh yeeess! He Iiis here. When will you be coming byyyy? I’ll let him KNooow!” Dipper checked his watch. His jaw clenched. 11:05AM. He looked around for the boys, but they were nowhere in sight. “Heellooo?”

“AH, maybe around noon. I have to go, be there soon.” Dipper ended the call before Despin could finish their goodbye.

11:06 A.M. Mr. and Mrs. Sidelah waved to him as he set down the street. He cracked a smile and waved back but kept moving. Damp air clung heavy to the ground until the sidewalk puddles danced and rippled again. His pace increased as he turned the corner with no sign of the boys. He glanced at the sky. No hint of red. He checked back down the street, wet splotches impeding his vision. The auto-dry upgrade would have cost an extra 300. He pressed on.

Another block had Dipper checking his watch for any missed messages or calls. Nothing. _Damnit, where are they?_

“Dipper! Yo, dude!” The man halted in front of the laundry mat and looked across the street. He brightened like a death row inmate given a pardon. Without looking both ways, Julio and Tristan darted across the road to join him. They shared their parcel-load of clothes and mail. One package was two feet by two and a half, the cardboard of the box jutting out at odd angles that must have been a pain to ship.

“Need some help?” Dipper asked as his stomach resumed its rightful place.

“Yeah man. Here, take the big one,” Tristan shrugged over the oddly-shaped package, “Sorry it took so long. The post office hates us.”

“Pretty sure it was the Feds rifling through our Shack junk again. Seriously, can’t they chill? It’s not like we knew those were real eagle feathers,” Julio grumbled  as he marched to the van, huddled over the dry-cleaning to protect it from the increasing rain.

Dipper smirked as he looked over the package while walking with the teens. Honestly, he was surprised either of their families were still able to use ordinary shipping methods with how often their weird parcels caught some authority’s attention.

Dipper brushed his damp hair out of his face as the boys hopped into the van. Julio sat in his old chair while Tristan took shotgun. After wiping his glasses clean and placing his phone in the console groove, Dipper started up the van. “Alright, we need to stop by the Gym-,” the teens groaned, “and check in with Wendy. She said something happened that could be related to our current mystery. After we’re done, we can make a quick stop at the arcade, then onto Gucket’s.”

“Or we could, you know, stay at the gym for a while. Help Wendy out and all that,” Julio suggested. Dipper hid his cringe better than Tristan.

 _Poor Wendy,_ Dipper thought as he drove down Memory Lane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was kinda long and slow, I know. But half the reason I even wrote this story was to play with how the town might change over time with new tech and changing attitudes. I hope you found some of my theories compelling and enjoyable. I have a few more chapters drafted so some faster updates are on the way! Please look forward to it.


	11. Out of Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper and the teens meet up with Wendy to find out what's up at the Gym.

[Welcome Back: Dipper Pines!] A notification chimed on Dipper’s glasses the moment the group walked through the sliding doors of Manley Dan’s Gym and Mancave.  He smiled as he remembered the tagged card in his wallet Wendy had forced him to sign up for when her father opened the gym eight years ago. He waved to an elderly people greeter who continued to snore in his chair.

His friendly smile drooped into a cringe as he watched several gym participants workout. While he didn’t frequent gyms, his household maintained a regular fitness and health regime, one he’d neglected since coming to the Falls. _I’ll do some sets later tonight._ He promised himself as he joined the boys by the free weights.

“Neat,” Julio quipped as he took a picture of a barbell shoved in a corner with an ‘Out of Order’ sign taped to it.

Manly Dan’s Gym and Man Cave was a play in duality. It at once knew exactly what it wanted to be while having no idea at all. It had all of the feng shui of a bear skin rug in a vegetarian’s garden. Without decent flow or reason to equipment placement, the wood, stone and cement structure looked every bit the Manatuar Man Cave Dipper remembered from his youth.

A massive boxing ring dominated the main room, with flashing rave lights and a cage hanging precariously above for the especially wild and rowdy nights. Newer exercise equipment, such as the gyroscope cycling bike and VR headsets meant for virtual personal training and scenic stationary bike rides, sat strewn alongside traditional equipment like free weights and stair climbers.

Wendy putzed around the gym to the beat of Ms. DJ Tinsel, moving easily between the ten present patrons as she tried to save the more expensive and fragile equipment from their over-eager exertions. Two apparent regulars, a Manatuar and a walking steroids advertisement, seemed intent on proving who could punch an antique clock pole harder. She waved, a pair of VR goggles swinging in her hand when she saw the boys and Dipper investigating the “broken” barbell.

“Sup dudes?” she asked as she ambled over. She had her hair pulled back in a low loose bun and wore a red and black flannel jacket over a forest brigade graphic tee. Dipper smiled and nodded as she came to stand next to them. She winked in return.

“Oh, he-hey Ms. Wendy, what a surprise to see you here,” Julio rubbed his head and looked away, “Well, I mean you work here so I guess may…”

“Tell me there’s a good story behind this,” Tristan pointed to the barbell, saving his brother from himself. Dipper cringe smiled back at Wendy when she shot him a teasing glance.

She leaned in towards the group, checking around the gym for eavesdroppers. “The long and short of it is that barbell fell on my brother last night. Dad doesn’t want anymore accidents, hence the sign.”

“Why is it the barbell’s fault that your bro dropped it?” Tristan asked.

Wendy pursed her lips, “I didn’t say he dropped it. The thing fell on him.” She straightened, “It’s probably easier to show you what happened.” She waved for them to follow her. “Actually,” she turned around and pointed at the teens, “Can you guys watch the gym for me for a few minutes?”

“Don’t you want us to stay with you… to help?” Julio smiled too wide.

Tristan rolled his eyes, “Sure thing, Ms. Wendy,” He grabbed Julio’s shoulder and lead him to the check-in counter.

“Don’t be such a speck dude,” Dipper heard Tristan hiss at his brother as he and Wendy walked over to the office.

“So, upgraded to parental cars huh?” Wendy teased once she closed the door.

“They aren’t my first choice but they have their advantages,” Dipper replied as he examined the office. While the gym stank of sterilized musk, the office smelled of old coffee and boredom. Cleaning supplies and small gym equipment sat on shelves against the back wall. One large file cabinet rested next to the server rack that powered the computers and security equipment. Three monitors recorded surveillance feed on a desk filled with scribbled sticky notes and coffee ring stains.

“Yeah,” Wendy smiled as she scrolled through video feeds on the leftmost monitor. “I kinda miss driving and riding in my dad’s pickup. Can’t beat my ol’ Jeep though.”

“That thing’s still running?” Dipper laughed as he sat in the chair next to her. He caught the subtle scent of her favored perfume as she leaned across the table to tap the far right screen. Lily with hints of truffles and moss, like a supple bloom deep in the forest. He forced himself to stay focused and in the present.

“After how many times she’s saved my butt, damn straight I keep her running. ‘Sides, can’t afford a new car on a teacher’s salary. Not in little Gravity Falls at least.”

Dipper frowned. Mabel had made similar remarks in the past, especially when she worked in the smaller or poorer school districts. “Have you thought of transferring?”

“I have, but this is home. Good pay or not. Anyway, here’s the video.” She flicked the screen to full size and pushed play. “Last night, Aaron was cleaning up after hours and decided to test some of the equipment himself.” Aaron was next oldest to Wendy if Dipper remembered correctly.

The screen showed her brother walking around the gym, cleaning as she’d been doing earlier. After wiping down the bench press, he decided to break all gym codes and pump some iron without a spotter. He was on his third rep of at least 500 pounds when the video feed fuzzed around the edges.  The bar was in his hands above his chest, then instantly an inch in front of them like a clipping glitch in a game. Aaron didn’t have time to be confused before the weight dropped onto his chest.

The viewers winced. Even with no audio, Dipper had heard and experienced enough bone breaks for his imagination to bring the sickening crunch to his ears. He was grateful Wendy hadn’t let the teens watch. Wendy rubbed her chest, confirming Dipper’s suspicion that Aaron suffered broken ribs.  The fact it wasn’t worse was impressive given it would have mortally wounded anyone less beefy. She stopped the feed as her brother slowly rolled the barbell off his chest, stood and still managed to place it in the rack before wobbling out of sight.

“Tell me he went to the doctor.”

Wendy gave a bitter laugh. “He’s alright, mostly. ‘Sides,” she gestured around the room, “Small business like this. We can’t afford anything better than Government.” Dipper winced in understanding.

The United States had finally enacted a true Universal Healthcare Plan in 2024. However, it passed with tiers. Government level was for the poorest and not much better than  Medicaid with outdated tech.

Only big name employers offered the higher tiers. Besides cost, increased qualifications such as abstinence from drugs or alcohol stacked on to each higher tier. However, they came with better care. Nanotech, quick recovery machines, and better doctors.  It wasn’t perfect, but still better than the Insurance Collapse of 2020.

“Just keep an eye on him. Worst case you take him to McGucket or the College. I’m sure one of them will have experimental tech they’d love to try.”

Wendy looked dubious, “I don’t know, man. I think old age is making Gucket kooky again. Last I heard, he was wrangling squirrels because he thought they were stealing his cheese.”

He shrugged, “It’s not any weirder than building a monsterbot for attention.” Wendy pursed her lips, unconvinced. He chuckled nervously. “Anyway, so you think this is more of the same problem?” Dipper gestured to the video.

“Seems likely. Ghosts wouldn’t have messed with the feed or made the barbell vanish for a moment like that,” Wendy said.

Dipper nodded and replayed the video, “If it is, this means it’s overall ability is increasing or the stronger bursts are moving from the forest. Earlier today, it displaced a downpour from the mountains into town.”

Wendy looked troubled as she watched the bar fall on her brother again. “But, then why didn’t it move him while he was holding it? Or break it by teleporting some of it?” Dipper swallowed, imagining if it had displaced only half of Aaron. It was concerning enough that the problem was injuring others.

Dipper sighed as he paused the video after its third loop. “I’ll make sure to bring this up to McGucket when we see him next. Surely he’s noticed something and has a few ideas by now.”

“Good luck with those squirrels.”Wendy chuckled as she reset the security monitors.

Dipper raked a hand through his hair. It wasn’t the development he wanted to hear. But, kooky or not, McGucket was still the more seasoned Weirdness expert.

“Oh boy, we better head back out.” Wendy straightened and left the room as Dipper checked the screen. Tristan and Julio stood surrounded by three teen boys and two girls off to the side. Dipper hurried after  Wendy.

 

Tristan and Julio wandered around the gym together checking out the new equipment. It wasn’t as high tech or fancy as some of the gyms and equipment sponsored on T.V. There weren’t any anti-gravity or hyperbolic chamber rooms and the equilibrium suit they had was three uses away from breaking. But where else could one spar with real life supernatural in an authentic wrestling ring?

Julio pointed to a piece of equipment designed to resemble a two-man paddle boat. He’d missed his morning jog and now was the perfect time to make up for it, but he didn’t want to be alone at the gym where others could watch. The Buddy Boat would let the teens workout together.

Julio turned to his brother with the suggestion only to see him waving at two girls on gyroscopic bikes. He sidled closer to Tristan as they paused their bikes and walked over.

They were both older than Julio, but that didn’t stop the magenta short-haired girl from winking at him. He inched further behind Tristan.

“Julio, this is Itzel and Sierra, we’re in AP Chem together.” Itzel had the magenta hair and Sierra was dark skinned with a fair face. Julio waved from behind his brother. Itzel giggled before the three of them started talking about their homework due on Monday.

Julio peeked around the gym, looking for a spot to disappear to when he noticed three other teens in the gym. They were huddled together on the fitness station doing chest press, ab crunches, and leg press. They all seemed in good shape judging by the 200 pounds they each pulled as they glared in their direction. _Maybe that’s their concentration face?_

“Julio was it?” Itzel asked, pulling him back into the conversation, “How are your classes going?”

“Oh, isn’t your team playing tonight too? Hope the weather clears up,” Sierra added.

“Yeah, I hate playing Skyte in the rain,” Itzel agreed.

“Ah, um,” Julio tried to look at the girls but couldn’t quite make eye contact, “Classes are fine, I guess…” he rubbed his arm.

Tristan laughed and nudged his arm, “When you can pay attention right?”

Julio glared at him and flushed when the girls laughed. He glanced back over at the ladies, still avoiding eye contact. That’s when he noticed Sierra’s blue mesh sportsbra strap peeking out from under her red jacket. He perked up and leaned forward. “Is that one of those new Thermoskins?” He pointed to her bra. The newest craze in exercise gear was heating and cooling circuits built into the clothes. Originally military to help soldiers battle in deserts and in the tundra, they quickly made their way into civilian attire, but the new tech was still expensive.

The momentary quiet broke when Sierra laughed, “Oh yeah, and I loooove it. Cost a whole month’s allowance but worth every dime. You wanna see?” She asked and unzipped her jacket. Itzel leaned over to look as well as Tristan, but Julio seemed to realize his mistake and turned three shades of red.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, Scat!?” One of the boys on the gym equipment shouted. Even the gym music quieted as he and the other two stalked over. “You can’t just ask someone to take off their clothes,” the tallest started to shout at Julio.

“What? That’s not even close,” Sierra countered.

“Shut up Sierra, I’m talking.”

“Whoa, you’re being all kinds of toxic right now Carson,” Tristan said, inching back in front of his brother as the other two boys stepped closer. Julio kept his head down, hand clenched.

Carson snarled at Tristan, mouth open to say more. “ You’re going to be so downvoted for this if you don’t walk away now jerk,” Itzel said, holding her phone up at him. The threat to his social standing clammed him up and the other two deflated.

“Okay everyone, Brawl night is Wednesday and you’re all too young to participate,” Wendy said as she hustled over to the group. “Carson, ya ol’ scobblelotcher,” she said as she stood behind the girls, “How’s that paper of yours coming? Remember, five laps this time for every day it’s late.”

“I’m working on it, Ms. Wendy.” Carson and the two other boys pointedly looked away from her.

Wendy nodded, “Glad to hear it. Now, everyone back to their stations or I’ll have to ask you to leave. Thanks.” The gym participants dispersed with a round of grumbles as Dipper joined them. Wendy gave him a thumbs up before directing him and the boys over to the front desk.

“What set him off?” Dipper asked.

“Sorry,” Julio murmured.

Wendy waved him off as Tristan told him it wasn’t his fault. “Carson’s a hothead, especially over anything his lil sis does. Guy’s too protective for his own good sometimes.”

“Well, we’d better head out before we cause you anymore trouble.” Julio cringed at Dipper’s comment. Tristan pat him on the shoulder.

“Last thing,” Wendy said as Dipper started to shuffle the boys out, “We really can’t afford having another accident like that, especially with a customer.” Julio looked as if he wanted to teleport into the floor. “So I was thinking of using the unicorn spell like you did for their house. Will you help me set it up after I buy the stuff?” Now Julio cocked his head and it took Tristan pointing to the out of order barbell for him to understand.

Dipper nodded, “Should help. I can help you set it up early tomorrow if you can gather the materials by then, or you know, whenever.”

“I could always come and help too… if you want…” Julio added sheepishly.

“But it didn’t even work. Remember your Singing Fir…” Tristan trailed off as his brother glared death at him while Dipper and Wendy looked down on him like cops at a suspect.

“Alright dudes, out with it.”

“And you lose points on subtlety,” Dipper added.

Julio glared harder at his brother. He took a deep breath before explaining. “Okay, you guys know my Singing Fir, the one that sounds like wind chimes?” The others nodded. “I was doing my bio homework when it started floating an inch off the ground and drifting all creepy around my room the night after they installed the unicorn spell.” He started wringing his hands, “It was weird cuz then it just hit the wall, hovered for a few more seconds then dropped. It was like a leaf in a stream that dried up or something.”

“Annnnd you didn’t think to call me over?”

“You were out. My phone was dead, and I can’t afford fancy specks to auto-record things.” Julio replied, looking ashamed.

“Hey, it’s no big deal dude, just make sure to tell us about stuff like that. Every little bit helps,” Wendy said and noogied him over his hat.

“It’d be nice to know why some things teleport while others only move around. There has to be a connection somewhere.”

“Annnd he’s off again,” Tristan said under his breath with a smirk when Dipper rubbed his chin with a concentrated stare at the floor. “I’d say try the unicorn spell Wendy. Worst that happens is it doesn’t work or only a little. Either way, more data right?”

Wendy smiled and nodded, “That’s why you have the highest marks in class man. But now,” she checked the wall clock, “I have a spin class coming in soon so I have to prep the room. Later dudes.”

“Are you sure you don’t need some help around here Wendy? I can clean up or watch the desk or, you know... Whatever ya need?” Julio asked, sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry dude, child labor laws and all. Besides,” she interrupted his complaint about being a child, “I need ya to keep a close watch on Dipper.” Julio saluted and Tristan rolled his eyes. Wendy winked at Dipper as the young teen marched onwards.

Dipper cracked a smile in response. He knew she was playing. However, the fact that Mabel was storm sweater mad at him and he hadn’t heard back from any of them in a while, made his stomach churn. “Give your brother my regards,” he said as he trailed behind the boys, “and let me know if anything else pops up… or around…” Wendy’s deadpan expression followed him out of the gym.

Outside, the rains finally caught up from the mountains. Dipper flipped up the hood of his jacket, mostly to protect his glasses. The boys complained the whole walk back to the car when Dipper told them they had to raincheck the arcade. “Look, the problem is getting worse. We have to solve it before someone else is hurt. The arcade will be there later.”

“Not if it teleports,” Tristan muttered. Dipper ignored him and they piled into the car.

“Hey, I’m sure McGucket has a bunch of new stuff you can check out when we arrive.” Dipper pulled out of the parking space. Three lights later, they turned onto Hambone drive, formerly NorthWest Way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my commenters and those that leave kudos! I love you guys!  
> Also, thanks for your patience guys! I know it's a shorter chapter but at least it came out faster than 8 months! I'll try to have a new one ready at the start of next month. I can't promise I'll be able to stick to monthly updates, but that seems like a reasonable minimum right?  
> I keep saying and forgetting to post a comic series I have going as a buffer between updates. If there is some interest, let me know and I'll try to actually do it this time. I call it "Bill's Pet". It's the idea that Bill views Dipper as his pet, but we all know that our pets are the real masters of our lives, so I'm drawing comics depicting various pet/human interactions and seeing if readers can guess the behaviors. -I like to think they're funny-  
> Anyway, until next time my lovely readers


	12. SQUIRRELS!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to McGucket's mansion presents possible solutions to solving the mystery of the anomalies and one more trusted friend that Dipper has to keep secrets from. How long can he keep up the deception on multiple fronts?

Although the mansion loomed on a large plateau above the town, McGucket had improved the mansion’s accessibility and curb appeal in the years since taking ownership of it from the Northwest family. He wanted it to be something that enhanced the town’s appearance rather than remain an ugly reminder of old ways.

First, McGucket reconfigured the winding, death-trap style road leading to the mansion, making it easier to transport large machines and devices. Afterwards, he turned his attention to reforesting the grounds around the area to prevent further soil erosion and destabilization of the mansion’s foundation. After twenty years, one could hardly tell the forest had ever been disturbed by anything besides weather.

The stone walls and iron gate were the next to go. No physical barrier could compete with the defenses McGucket and Stanford had installed, though.

Dipper stopped in front of the lowered bar across the road. A few seconds passed before the kiosk next to the driveway chimed and the bar rose, granting them access. As he pulled forward, Dipper checked the automated monitor inside the kiosk. A digital 3D blueprint of the vehicle and its occupants rotated on the screen. McGucket and Stanford designed the security measure as a way to provide several layers of information in one go rather than needing multiple machines and unhealthy amounts of radiation exposure.

About a quarter of a mile from the mansion, a graceful arch swooped over the driveway. To most, it would look like an artistic sculpture paying homage to nature and its beauty. However, all three occupants shivered simultaneously as they drove under it.

The arch was the only visible part of a second barrier, this one more magic than tech. Like the unicorn and moonstone spell, it worked to keep out certain kinds of supernatural, less focused on “weird” and more against malicious intent. It was useful in that it worked on everything, not just supernatural. Once, it kept an over-zealous, slandering journalist from entering the grounds.

It also worked both ways and would dampen any potential explosions or harmful fallout from some of McGucket and Stanford’s more ambitious experiments. They’d learned from previous mistakes, such as the dimension-destroying portal and the endless popcorn bowl. Gravity Falls still smelled like burnt popcorn every third Tuesday.

 _So McGucket’s experiments most likely aren’t the cause. Unless one of them is slowly eating away at the shield?_ Dipper breathed and reined in his racing hypotheses as he pulled around the massive water fountain -full of experimental fish- encircled by the driveway. He parked past the door and handed the keys to the valet as he left the van. She nodded and hopped in the driver seat, careful to tuck her wings in before closing the door and driving to the garage.

The boys hustled over to the veranda furnished with benches, rocking chairs and experimental potted plants. While McGucket had decided to leave the main structure of the mansion intact, he made some modifications. The most noticeable changes were the wrap around porch and balcony, along with a lighter exterior stain. They took the mansion from a haunted house aesthetic to and an inviting and expensive ski resort.

Pacifica once said she wished it had looked as open and friendly when she lived in it. Her parents refused to comment.

Dipper joined the boys on the porch in front of the two-story red oak and wrought iron door. “Alright boys,” he said as he pushed his hood down and adjusted his cap, “Please behave. Don’t touch stuff you’re not supposed to, and don’t gawk at McGucket.” The boys grumbled their assent like toddlers told not to pet the animals in a petting zoo. Dipper nodded and grabbed the cast iron knocker the size of his head. THUD THUD THUD.

They waited a moment before the door tugged opened, accompanied by strained grunts. A four-foot creature with scaly, orange skin, small green eyes, and three arms stood holding the door open. The unfortunate gremlinoid wore a pair of brown leather overalls, stood on two hunched hind legs and had large, pushed-back ears.

“Hey Itchy,” Tristan waved and walked in before the creature could finish scrutinizing the group. The creature growled at Tristan but made no move to stop him or the others as they entered. Dipper handed the gremlinoid a bag of Cheese Doodles as a peace offering. The orange tint to the creature’s skin

evidenced a particular fondness for the snack; gremlinoid skin often took on the colors of anything they ate in large amounts.

“Ich Bigard tell master you here. Wait,” said the gremlin after it swallowed a handful of the orange poofs.

“He still doesn’t understand he isn’t a slave I take it?” Julio whispered when the creature was out of sight. Dipper shook his head. Ich Bigard had been living with McGucket for the last seven years after he found and saved him in the forest from a pack of enraged Cluckatrices. Cliché as it was, the creature swore a life debt and had been working for McGucket ever since.

Ich Bigard wasn’t the only supernatural living in the mansion either. Like the rest of the town, many forest denizens integrated into McGucket’s life. He was nervous at first about the arrangement, but warmed up to them, which helped him to overcome his fears of the things that bumbled through the night. The ones who stayed most often worked to maintain the house or helped with projects and experiments.

McGucket also used his home to host his social norms “manthropology” classes. Creatures that wanted to successfully mingle with human society took a few lessons at the mansion. Likewise, humans could come learn more about the various supernaturals, taught first hand by the supernaturals themselves.

“What else am I gonna do with all this space? Build a bigger house on the inside? Saaayyy...” McGucket had responded when asked by reporter Shandra Jimenez about his decision. His altruism didn’t end with the free use of his mansion.

McGucket’s wealth had continued to expand at an exponential rate from past inventions and a constant stream of new ones. Ford, still guilty over ruining his old lab assistant’s life for thirty years, patented some of his own inventions and breakthroughs under McGucket’s name as well. With money to burn, McGucket single handedly revitalized Gravity Falls. New hospital, library, state of the art college, and more. He also made sure his family was well provided for with massive trust funds, even if they didn’t want to live in the mansion with him.

The boys wandered out of the foyer into the two story, vaulted parlor. Walnut and Mahogany wood still predominated the interior of the building, as replacing good wood was an expensive waste. Nevertheless, proper lighting and colorful accents kept the place from looking dark and drab.

Living supernaturals going about their lives filled the parlor. Flying snakes drifted along mechanized puffs of air near the ceiling. Young, blue-eyed drakes passed by chatting to one another in their grumbling language. One looked over at the three humans and blew a puff of smoke in greeting before returning to the conversation. It was like a living emporium of wonderful weirdness. Dipper smiled again, remembering how different things had been when he was a child.

Julio tugged on Tristan’s sleeve, “Think Fidds and Fsigeral finished that crystal flower?”

“Dude, yeah! Botany room right, second floor.”

The teens sprinted up the grand staircase before Dipper could rein them in. His lips pursed thinking how displeased Melody would be with him if something happened to her boys on his watch. He forced himself to relax again. _If they’re going to be safe anywhere, it’d be in McGucket’s mansion with his assistants._ Fsigeral was a centaur that joined McGucket’s home and employ only months after the mansion reopened. He was a levelheaded guy who knew his way around a lab, a danger only to those careless enough to leave credit cards where he might find them; a certain fondness for expensive heels had been the source of hefty credit card debt for the unwary.

Dipper wandered around the parlor while he waited for Ich Bigard or McGucket to meet him. The parlor had a strange mix of open cheerfulness and mad scientist, engineer and alchemist all rolled into one. Rare plant specimens sat on pedestals in vases encased in airtight domes. Scented smoking vials bubbled in candelabras, giving the room a soft spicy scent like sunshine through the forest.

Books lined dark cedar shelves and ranged from “Taking Care of Cyclops Babies” to “Making the Most of Your Astrotheoretical Potentiality Degree”. Not even the long trailing rugs were normal, their subtle zigzagging patterns moving constantly. Nanomolecular ant fairies made the patterns by burrowing through soft fabrics but were too small to hurt if stepped on and thus were perfectly safe.

While Dipper examined a new gyroscopic tumbler near the entrance to discern its purpose, he noticed a strip of yellow tape over one of the light switch panels by the door. Scrawled in red marker on the tape were the words “DISCO IS DEAD.” Ich Bigard returned and announced his presence as Dipper tried to figure out why tape was needed to remind everyone of Disco’s demise several decades hence. Leaving dissatisfied, Dipper followed Ich Bigard down the right wing hallway.

Five generously spaced apart doors later, Ich Bigard stopped. “Right this way ser,” he said with a deep bow and gesture towards an open door on the left.

Dipper peeked into the room. Deep inside, the tip of a brown, wizard style hat bobbed around a large mechanical arm-like apparatus. He smiled, thanked Ich Bigard, and walked into the room.

BWooOOP! BWooOOOPP!

A deafening alarm sounded the moment Dipper entered. Red and orange strobes flashed through the laboratory. A secondary steel door hidden in the frame behind the mahogany one slammed shut an inch from his back. Before Dipper had time to dodge for cover, the floor literally melted and reformed around his ankles like metallic quicksand.

WARNING. WEIRDNESS DETECTED. WARNING. A vaguely female mechanical voice repeatedly announced. The hand Dipper had raised in greeting now swung wildly to fend off manacle pincers that shot out of the walls towards him.

“Sweet Hootenanny!” McGucket shouted, followed by a loud clang of metal on metal.

One wily clasp managed to snag Dipper’s left wrist before everything stopped. The siren ceased and the lights returned to cool blue LEDs. McGucket lowered his hands from the clap position. He rubbed his head as he walked over to Dipper. The young man frowned at the older, carefully avoiding resting his gaze on anything too... _don’t stare...don’t stare damnit..._ and tugged at the manacle still wrapped around his wrist.

“Can you give me a hand? Preferably my own back?” Dipper kept his tone even and conversational. However, the icicle lodged in his back where his spine had been made that difficult. _A Weirdness alarm? When did he make that? Shit, he’s going to find out about Bill. Wait, is he in my backpack again? I just bought it! What if he’s poisoning me with weirdness radiation? Cancer is not how I… shit shit shit..._

Dipper stiffened as McGucket pulled out a metal detector wand. Every impulse in Dipper screamed at him to make a quip about trust or being rude when McGucket waved the wand around him. He squashed them with the tight set of the other man’s jaw. McGucket hummed as he checked the wand’s results.

“Hooey. Haven’t seen readings like this since…”

 _Shit shit shit._ Dipper could scarcely breathe.

“The barbeque last year! Still have no idea what kinda “meat” Stan tried to feed us at that boondoggle.”

Dipper laughed as the tension released with all of the delicate grace of a popped balloon. “That is... Right. Soo... about the restraints?” He tried not to sound too relieved as he jangled his arm again.

“Right, right. Hold on,” McGucket said as he stepped over to the wall and pushed a few buttons on a nearly invisible keypad. Dipper didn’t miss the sidelong glance McGucket gave him. He swallowed and kept his eyes at an angle that would reveal the telltale yellow of possession. It was something no one talked about anymore, but the unspoken question, the suspicion, always came back whenever anyone behaved oddly. It made drinking or having a bad day awkward sometimes. He rubbed his wrist as the manacle and floor released him.

“Sorry about that ol’ buddy. Still a few kinks to work out with the detection system.” McGucket said and clapped him on the shoulder after an uncomfortably long moment passed.

“It’s understandable,” Dipper replied with a shrug. “The floor restraints are a nice touch. Very 770. But when did you install it?” McGucket’s latest...modifications...and eclectic outfit made him resemble a mad genius rather than the classy spy-movie gadget expert that he seemed to envision himself to be. He still wore his lucky patchwork hat as an accessory to his high gloss, stain and spill-proof lab coat. Bits of his designer denim overall peeked out from underneath the coat, with a pair of oversized black galoshes completing the ensemble.

“The floor was Soos’ idear that one. Installed it and the detection system a few months back. Don’t have the materials yet to cover the whole house. So, I’ve focused on the most important rooms for now.” He turned back to Dipper, that old suspicion creeping back in. “What trouble ya into these days that’s setting off my alarms?”

Dipper cleared his throat. “That’s actually why I’m here.” He strolled over to McGucket and the panel used to turn the alarm off. “Something teleported me the other day.” He decided to leave Wendy out of the conversation for now. “Probably what tripped it.” _Hopefully._ The locked keypad thwarted him from glancing at the readings.

“Teleportation ya say?” McGucket asked, his voice rising a shrill octave in excitement.

Dipper nodded. “Trouble is, it wasn’t an isolated event. But, I can’t find the cause and it’s started injuring people in town. I figured you’re the best one to ask for some insight.”

“I see. Well, why didn't you say so?” McGucket said as he returned the scanner to its drawer.

Dipper didn’t point out that he did, in fact, say so.

“I flew back in the other day from a symposium in Norway,” McGucket continued, “Thought it was the squirrels moving my things around again.”

“Squirrels?” Dipper had enough time to ask before the room descended into chaos.

As if summoned, a squirrel popped out of thin air in the middle of the room and landed on the large metal slab table. It chittered wildly and scampered about the surface, knocking over metal parts, documents, and beakers of mysterious liquids. Hissing fruit flavored swear words, Dipper scrambled to pick up beakers before their sickly yellow ooze covered everything on the table. The room’s metal door receded back into the wall as McGucket lunged for the frantic animal. Ich Bigard rushed in, followed by Julio and Tristan.

“Ser, squirrels wanted, poof…” Ich Bigard’s announcement trailed off as the crazed creature launched toward the open door. The teens yelped and dodged as the squirrel raced past them and down the hall. “I get!” The little gremlin shouted and tore off after it. Several other loose squirrels raced through the hall in both directions with different supernatural staff chasing after them.

Tristan started howling with laughter as another squirrel ran past the door, pulling a matrix move on the wall to avoid capture and causing a pixie and gnome to collide. Even Julio chuckled hard enough to gasp between his laughter.

“I told you them squirrels were up to no good!” McGucket yelled as he scruffled up papers off the floor. His comment made the teens boys laugh harder.

“What do you mean about the squirrels?” Dipper placed the vials in their racks, “Have they done that often?” It was possible that teleporting squirrels -not the small literal flying ones- was a new thing. But, Dipper had a feeling he was about to hear a wild McGucket story that only half made sense and would be better explained by the teleporting trouble.

“Fsigeral, Ich Birgard, and Toosy told me stuff around the mansion’s been skittering about for almost a month. I was touring in Europe the last two months, so I had to take their word for it. But now these squirrels been popping up everywhere. Always were wily things, trying to scare away Raccoon Wife. They must be the real culprits moving everything.” He gestured to the lab that looked slightly cleaner after the squirrel’s rampage.

Dipper sighed and gathered papers off the floor. “Okay, but why would the squirrels bother moving things around. Last I checked they only want food for winter.” He stacked the papers in a neat pile on a shelf far from the vial spills.

“I already told you! They’s mad that my Raccoon Wife wouldn’t leave me for them. So they’s after some payback!”

“Oh man, would NOT what to be on a squirrel’s bad side,” Tristan quipped once he regained control of himself. He picked up a small, metallic cube close to the table’s edge and tossed it between his hands.

“Yeah, might make off with your nuts or something.” The teens sniggered. Dipper rolled his eyes. Teens. Good thing he was never that crass. Never.

“What about a different hypothesis?” Dipper offered as he righted a tipped jar of bolts, “One a little more related to what’s been happening all over town?” He lifted his foot when a little floor sweeper rolled past sucking up bits of broken glass.

“Oh no, it’s def revenge over the scorn of his wife.” Dipper cast a sidelong glance at Tristan who chuckled and tossed the cube to Julio.

“Explains why there’s a whole barrel of them in lab 3,” Julio whispered as he examined the cube.

“What about the town now?” McGucket asked, yanking Dipper’s attention away before he could inquire about the barrel of squirrels. Dipper tried to ignore it -as he did with all of McGucket’s unsettling modifications- but when the old man used his cybernetic beard to take notes, it was hard to overlook.

Tristan’s gasp cut Dipper off before he could answer McGucket’s question. “Fidds, have you upgraded your beard again?” He hustled over to the old man’s side, restraining himself enough not to grab his beard.

Sometimes, Dipper wished he had a spray bottle to make the boys back down. While he encouraged inquisitiveness, there was such a thing as invasive and rude. McGucket, however, seemed to enjoy the attention and demonstrated his beard’s new abilities for the boys. Dipper tried not to cringe when demonstration moved from the beard’s flexibility to his mechanical wrist folding over to reveal a Swiss Army knife.

Over the years, McGucket decided normal aging wasn’t good enough for himself. Instead of using the more accepted methods of lab grown organic replacements for his maturing body, he preferred more traditional machinations. “They’re more reliable. You can trust them and they last longer,” he had said.

His engineering genius to essentially launched the cyborg era with himself as patient zero. When his sight started failing, he replaced the retinas with machinery. Once his beard lost its vigor, he fabricated an even more useful one, minus the Band-Aid. He’d even corrected his posture and gait with spine and leg implants. Of course, some of his organs showed their age, so he replaced or supplemented those with inorganics.

Stan thought he was insane. Even Ford, with his own radical metal plate surgery, advised against the extensive mechanical augmentations. However, McGucket wouldn’t be deterred, and his -patented- work ended up improving or saving lives all over the globe.

However, besides making himself an unfit test subjects for medicines, potions, and more, many of his enhancements and failsafes were electrical. His modified pacemaker and replacement kidneys would likely stop completely if the teleportation power drain Dipper experienced held consistent. _Surely he’s paranoid enough to have a redundant back-up or two for those?_ Dipper shook his head away from that line of thought. “ _Fix the problem before it becomes one,”_ his engineering mentor, Dr. Harkins, always said _._

“WOAH!” Dipper shouted, yanked from his fretting when he realized McGucket was starting to undress. The old engineer froze with his shirt pulled up and overalls hanging at his waist. Dipper could seek metallic plating and wires running up his side.

“Aw come on dude, he was showing us his new hip replacement,” Tristan pouted at Dipper.

“Did you really program dance moves into it?” Julio asked with his head cocked.

“I did indeed,” replied McGucket with a blush as he readjusted his clothes, “But Dipper’s right, we need to talk about what’s happening in town.” The boys grumbled. “Don’t worry, I can show you blueprints later.” That seemed to placate the boys enough to give McGucket breathing room again.

“Alright, alright everyone. Have a seat,” McGucket said. He brushed a stack of papers off of the stool next to him and indicated for the others to proceed similarly. Julio and Tristan spotted a short, cluttered bench along the wall designed for smaller lab assistants. Dipper pulled a stool from under the table and sat down. He almost chose to stand when to stool wobbled on uneven legs. “Right, where were we?” McGucket asked once everyone settled.

Dipper tried to ignore the absurdity of McGucket’s beard scratching away on the tablet as he explained about the call from Soos and Melody, his unexpected trip to the Deep Forest, and the data he had gathered since. He left out any particularly triangular details from the story. His stomach turned over in a knot as he refrained from wringing his hands. McGucket had a right to know what he was getting

into, what he was withholding from him. He deserved the truth, by all rights he had earned Dipper’s trust... _but I just can’t risk it. Who knows how he’d react… How any of them would…_

The boys added their two cents concerning events at school or home while Tristan texted on his phone and Julio fidgeted with spare tools on the bench. They knew not to tamper with any of the experiments, lest they wound up with altered voices or their sense of touch and smell swapped.

McGucket hummed in thought as he looked over his notes. “Doesn’t make much sense. Not only did you and Wendy teleport to different spots, but you two are exponentially more massive than anything else that’s been documented teleporting long distances.” He set the notes down and began flipping through a nearby binder, the spine cracking with the tension of the overstuffed pages straining to break free of containment. “Maybe something in here...I remember some displacement work we did what, 2024, 2025 abouts?”

“I think so, yeah.” Dipper nodded, the old excitement of collaboration bubbling up. “That’s my question exactly, though. Well, one of many. So far, the only two things that make sense are that we were already far into the forest, one of the more magical sections to boot. The other option is that we’re missing data. It’s possible that other large entities in the forest have teleported long distance but we couldn’t document it. I’ve requested a full report of events in the forest from the gnomes. I’m hoping they’re done soon to confirm my suspicions.”

“Be that as it may, there’s still no clear cut cause or even start to this problem. Ooh, remember this guy?” McGucket held up the page to show the toothy grin of a wood sprite.

“No, what is it?” Julio asked, leaning forward to see the picture.

“We were swearing up and down that the Gnomes’ vineyard had some kind of disease but then Ford found this little scubber shoulders deep in a grape. Kept poppin’ all over the place when we tried to catch it ‘til we came up with that molecular stabilization spray, the little blighterpoop’s face when he couldn’t zap away, hah!” He chuckled as he flipped through more pages.

“Wait, do you still have it? We could try spraying teleporting or floating things. Could that work?” Julio asked. Tristan nodded but didn’t look up from his phone.

“Sure thing! Though, might not be much left, and it was a doozy to make. Where did I leave that can I wonder…?” McGucket scratched his beard and his beard scratched his chin as he scanned the notes again.

Dipper gave Julio a thumbs up making the teen beam. “Besides the spray, have you or your associates worked on anything that could trigger what’s happening now? I know you haven’t been here, but maybe something finally clicked? Soos told me the mansion caused a power outage a few weeks ago, could that…?” Dipper trailed off as McGucket shook his head.

“That was from my failed disco dance. Someone tripped the switch before the generators were set. Was supposed to put out a beat for a town-wide dance party, big ol’ disco ball projection and everything. Although, a few recalculations…” he started writing new notes.

“Let’s worry about disco later McGucket,” Dipper said. Julio mock disco danced on the bench while Tristan pulled up old disco music on his phone. “There were reports of a light coming from the forest a few weeks ago and the timing seems to coincide with the start of the anomalies. Does that sound like anything of yours?”

McGucket shook his head. “Nothing in the forest, no. Ford and I’s latest project was a portal gun. Only small scale stuff. Nothing…. Nothing dimensional,” he added quickly. “It’s not operational though. Can’t find a cheaper alternative to moon dust. Nasty stuff that.”

“Oh man, a portal gun!” Julio exclaimed, “Could you imagine how awesome that’d be? We’d like, go to the moon or Japan or-,”

“Or a little peep show on Wendy?” Julio flushed red and clammed up. His brother laughed and playfully shoved him. He averted his eyes back to his phone when he saw Dipper’s disapproving scowl.

“We were actually thinking more along the lines of free shipping so Stanley would stop trying to bankrupt us by ordering junk from weird places.”

“Yeah, sounds about right for Grunkle Stan.” Dipper laughed, but his smile lingered. Even years later, it was wonderful to see that Stanley finally had a loving family and people that cared about him and

considered him part of the “we”. Sure he still caused tons of trouble with schemes and his callous personality, but he was the guy you wanted to have your back, and people finally recognized that.

“So, besides a super rad portal gun, what else have you developed?” Tristan asked sitting on the edge of his bench.

“Oh, you know, all sorts of things.” McGucket tapped the table. It lit up with a holoscreen. He pulled up digital notes and blueprints for various projects. “Electromagnetic processor matrix, light destabilizer, plasma guns, jet packs, memory potion, rejuvenation serum, organic lab-grown fruit…and a bunch more,” he said and swiped through the list to show its length.

Julio clasped his hands together in a finger gun and tapped his chin as if in great concentration before pointing to McGucket, “Tell me about the jetpack.”

“What about new tracking or monitoring methods instead,” Dipper overruled, refusing to let the teens derail his investigation again. “If we can track the gravity anomalies and teleportations, then it should lead us to the source via triangulation.”

“Nothing new,” he said and pulled up more schematics, “But since the squirrels started stealing my stuff, I pulled out some old collars that we’ve been placing on them as we catch them. Trouble is when they vanish, their signals stop. Can’t figure out why.”

Dipper perked up, this was going where he needed it to. “If the collars are electronic, teleporting drains them. My glasses, bludgeon, GPS, they all shut off when I landed. At least that means it’s consistent.”

“Hmm. That explains why the faraday cage collar kept working. Problem is the cages are too hard to make that small and they all but block the collar signal. So they aren’t much use.”

“Wait, you made a Faraday cage small enough for a squirrel to wear and it works at all? That’s amazing!” Tristan shouted. Julio chuckled and called his brother a nerd under his breath. It was an impressive breakthrough. A patent was unlikely any time soon, though; McGucket didn’t like to advertise half-finished work.

“The Faraday cage is a good start, but you’re right that it wouldn’t work to map out the forest to generate a pattern. So what else could we use?”

Julio’s hand shot up. “GPS!”

“He said electronics won’t work, ya Coggle.” He turned back to Dipper as his brother glared at him, “What about flares or something with a kill switch? The moment the electronic tracker stops, it fires and someone will see it.”

McGucket shook his head. “Works theoretically. In practice, it’s a logistical nightmare. You’d need someone watching everywhere all at once and record the time when they see a signal, then track it down.”

“Why not have the Gnomes or Pixies do it?”

Dipper wobbled his hand, “Maybe, but they usually aren’t… reliable for large scale projects.” It was a nice way to say they weren’t capable. “Would satellite imaging of the area work? You still have contacts over in NASA, right?” It beat asking some of his Dark Net friends to hack them again.

“Yes, but we have no idea what to look for and having them search in all frequencies would raise a lot of questions.”

“Yeah, and I thought we were still trying to keep Weird Falls hush hush?” Tristan added. It was true. While tourism was encouraged and profitable, The Mystery Shack and Gravity Falls’ citizens played off any supernatural sightings as just medical curiosities or part of the tour that everyone knew was “fake.” They ensured Gravity Falls was seen as one of those “fake Freak Shows” from back when traveling carnivals still existed. The Nevermind All That Act (NATA) helped keep the secret and ploy up while Gideon and his law enforcement made sure nothing too incriminating left town to bring back curious scientists...like Stanford.

“The real trouble with this plan to map where things disappear and reappear is finding something that can be tracked from point A to point B,” Julio said. Tristan nodded sagely. “We can’t cover the forest in colored weather balloons and wait for them to launch after transport. I mean, it’d work, but again, too much prep. The whole town could disappear before we’re done.”

Dipper smiled. Kid had a good head on his shoulders.

“Hey, what about the squirrels? Fidds, you’ve been collecting them and they’re everywhere! If we can find enough and hook them up with something that will survive the electronic zap…” Julio trailed off as McGucket fell into a concentrated look.

“It’s not ready yet… but I’ve been tinkering with an isotope. The goal’s to make it safe to inject into living organisms, and be easily tracked.”

“Like microchipping pets,” Tristan said.

“Right, but more feasible for tracking things like large scale migrations, or nutrition transportation through plants.”McGucket pulled up a new set of notes filled with formulas and programming codes. “I already designed a program for it. But the forest and spaceship around here keep interfering, which means other factors could tamper with it too. If I can make it work, we could fly a plane overhead, or keep a satellite or drone in position to watch for the sudden blip changes. ”

Dipper leaned forward to study the schematics. He understood some of the coding, but chemistry was lost on him. He took a snapshot of the notes with his glasses hoping a little research would clear things up. _Doubt I can provide anything McGucket hasn’t already thought of, but doesn’t hurt to try._

Mention of the spaceship also reminded him of yet another project on his plate. He set a reminder on his glasses to visit the ship to compare the symbols on it against the ones on the artifact he and Mabel found before his trip to Gravity Falls.

“How long have you been working on the isotope?” Dipper asked after he finished. “If you think you can make it work soon, it might be our best bet for gathering data.”

Was it ridiculous to use squirrels to map vanishing points? Yes. But, that was Gravity Falls’ MO. Squirrels also had a way of getting into everywhere and everything that would make city rats jealous.

McGucket smiled wide and nodded. The old man’s love of working on bizarre projects evident by the glint in his cybernetic eyes. “Can’t say how long yet. But, with Fsigeral and I on it, shouldn’t be long.”

“Great, now that we have that nailed down, can we pleeeease see your new hip?” Tristan sidled back up to the old man, who was only too happy to be distracted and show off his new enhancements.

Julio was less enticed to potentially see old man butt. He meandered around the lab towards Dipper, careful to avoid the spilled yellow liquid on the table and floor. Before he could talk to Dipper, something caught his eye.

Dipper meandered over to the far counter near the back wall when he saw Julio purposefully walking towards it. While he trusted the boys to behave, personal experience taught him curiosity proceeded trouble.

Three items sat on the far counter, carefully set up and labeled. The labels on the three items caught his interest. A pair of six fingers gloves labeled “Arthritis”. “Memory” for the bubbling capped vial of green liquid. Finally, a helmet with numerous electrode sticking from the top called “Hair”. Julio picked up the helmet and mimed putting it on. A stern look from Dipper made him stop.

“I know, I know,” he said with a pout as he put it back. No one needed a personality-changing incident again. “Hey Fidds! What are all these?” He called out. Dipper scrunched his nose as the sound echoed obnoxiously on all the metal and hard surfaces in the room.

McGucket looked over at them, eyes flashing in recognition before he jerked back. “Oh, ah, those are nothing. Just uh, ya know… old men junk. Nothing you kids need to worry about for a LOOOOOng time.”

“So does this “Memory” one mean like, “old man memory potion?” Julio continued to yell. “Does it work?”

Dipper picked the vial up before Julio could grab it.

Tristan started making his way over. “Oh man, please say yes. I have a Bio exam coming up on Monday and could use all the help I can get,” Tristan said as he arrived on scene.

Dipper held it higher as Tristan tried to grab it. He huffed as the teen’s weight pushed him back against the counter. Dipper still had height on the boys, but man, they could easily tackle him like a boulder against a twig.

“I uh, I don’t know if it’s working yet to be honest. Haven’t tested it. It’s a recipe from the Handwitch and no one’s wanted to try it yet, not even Ich Birgard. Say,” he perked up, “You want to give it a try? The ingredients are all natural. Totally nontoxic. Just let me know what happens.

Oh, and here!” He started digging through a drawer. “I have these doodads.” He pulled out a couple of rings that looked like mood rings. “Put them on and it’ll tell you how someone feels about ya when you shake their hand!” The boys ran over and were all too happy to take him up on the offer. “Remember to record the data and I’ll talk to your teachers about extra credit.” The boys slipped the rings on and shook hands. McGucket Hmmed as the rings both turned red.

While McGucket explained the color system to the boys, Dipper slipped the memory vial in his shirt pocket. McGucket wanted it tested, he’d do it himself if needed. If it worked… maybe it would be a step closer to helping Grunkle Stan.

He wanted to ask McGucket about the memory gun, but decided to wait until he could talk privately with him. _Best not to let the boys, and thus Soos know anything is wrong with Stan._ He intervened and started to direct the boys out of the room before they accepted too many untested gadgets. Seriously, he did not need Melody and Soos kicking him out of the house for letting the boys play with Quantum Fireworks again.

The Gravity Falls arcade smelled like old pizza and crushed dreams. Dipper was glad to be leaving. Though he had spent many nights and most of his allowance here during teenage summers, it wasn't the same anymore. Gone were the 8-bit games, the 64-bit, and even the 60fps games. Now, most consisted of VR games that he couldn’t find enjoyment from anymore.

“Man, do we have to go? We were just starting to have fun!” Marcel complained as Dipper waved all the teens back into the van. After picking Marcel up and dropping Abuelita off with her friends, they’d spent two hours there and almost one hundred dollars of his money.

Dipper had spent the time trying to gather information from .GIFfany and Rumble on the electronic etherweb they lived in. However, their animatronic suits were too creepy to stay around even for him. Their over the top public displays of affection also drove him away. When Soos and Melody did it, it was cute. Two horror movie monsters out of B movies... Not so much.

“Sorry Marcel, but it’s almost six. We still need to eat dinner and go to Julio’s game.”

The Ramirez family sat at a large table in the back of Little Ricky’s Pizzeria. Soos and Melody had hugged their sons and Abuelita as if they hadn’t seen them in years. They pulled Dipper into the group huge when he had tried to slip around them into a seat.

Dinner itself was a loud affair as the boys talked about their day and their parents showed off pictures of their purchases from the “Creepy Mansion sale.”

Dipper smiled and laughed with the family through the meal, especially when the waiter showed interest in the pictures and Soos offered him a job if he ever grew bored of sling pizzas. But homesickness creeped in as dinner wore on. He missed his sister and brother-in-law. He missed how Kara and Theo carried on and the way he and their parents would be exhausted after playing with them all day.

Riding on the heels of homesickness was dread. He still hadn’t heard from anyone since that morning. _Come on Mabel, it’s not as bad as you think._ He finished his second slice and passed on the third. At least he had plenty of work to keep him distracted.

Chief among his distractions was planning what to do with Bill. As much as he didn’t want to, he knew he had to visit the triangle that night, especially after how things ended the previous night. He was likely pushing his luck again keeping him waiting, and he didn’t want to find out what Bill would do if he never showed.

Of course, the game ran into triple overtime, ending well past nine o’clock. The Selkies guarding each team’s goal was the primary cause. Not only were they impossible to bypass, they did tricks every time before putting the ball back in play. Dipper was on the verge of demanding the referee start flagging them, but he feared Melody or Abuelita would destroy him if he interfered with the game.

A late goal by the opposing team finally secured victory. Everyone was cheering up a storm though. Thankfully not literally. That disaster cleanup had been a pain.

Dipper drove back to the Shack with the windows down, letting the cool evening air rush over him. He’d swapped with Soos and Melody, opting to take their sedan so they could all drive together in the van. It let him avoid post-game teen stench, although the car smelled of fast food and dusty cobwebs- and it gave him a moment alone.

“This is Mabel! It rhymes with label! Call you when I’m able!” A slew of swears filled the car as Dipper turned the car back on and hit the gas when the light turned green. _I should spam her and Xander the whole night until they answer… or let my emergency email send and tell them all Bill is back. I can be petty too._

He sighed. It was tempting to add one more distraction between him and the real problem. _Bill’s going to become suspicious if I keep leaving him hanging,_ he thought as he pulled onto the Shack’s driveway to drop off the Soos mobile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA! I actually updated in a month like I promised! Hope you all enjoyed my presentations of 8oish old McGucket and how he's living his life. My goal is to keep on this monthly update train until I finish Act 1 in about 3 chapters. From there, Updates might be slow again because I'm not sure how Act 2 plays out yet. I have plans, but there is also a lot of fluff potential and I haven't figured out my balance yet.  
> As always, I deeply appreciate the time you've taken to read my work. Comments and kudos are loved and keep my spirits high. I'd also like to thank my Editor and best friend/roomie for making sure this is polished enough to share with all of you. FInally, a huge thank you to Armocalypsis for your comments on the last two chapters, and everyone leaving Kudos!


	13. So You Think You're An Artist?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squirrels are teleporting around, Bill is becoming impatient and Dipper is running low on excuses. Sprinkle something new in the forest to worry about, and that leaves Dipper little time left for sleep.

“You going out again already, Dude?” Dipper paused with his hand on the doorknob as Soos strode up behind him with a bowl of French chocolate ice cream topped with colorful gummy bears. “Tristan’s gonna start thinking he can go out after ten too. I’m not even allowed.” He laughed between large spoonful’s of chewy ice cream.

“Yeah, I’m going for a drive to focus myself before working on the Gnome report.” They’d left the handwritten bundle of notes, wrapped in waterproof bark, on the porch where Abuelita would find it along with the evening paper. “Figure if I cleaned the house again, Melody might kill me.” He meant it as a joke, but he’d also seen her forcibly remove a tantruming centaur from the Mystery Cafe.

Soos nodded, “Prolly right dude, but don’t stay up all night again. Melody told me she’ll tranq your orange juice in the morning if you don’t check those bags under your eyes.”

Dipper snorted. “I’m sure she would,” he replied and zipped up his jacket.

 _Am I really about to hike this trail in the dark for a second time this week?_ Dipper thought as he pulled over on Honeysuckle Avenue next to Deerpine Trail. _If Bill doesn’t kill me, my own stupidity will._

Xander had been warning against his recklessness since college, “It’d be just like you to save some cliffside village from a monster and then die falling off a ledge or from some other mundane accident.”

As before, Dipper dragged his bike out of sight and left it against a tree. After a few deep breaths to prepare for the long, hazardous hike, he started up the steep hill.

Muffled rumbling in the distance accentuated long periods of silence as the forest slept. Dark, low clouds blocked most of the moon’s silver light. The budding tree canopy stole what was left, leaving the forest in almost perfect darkness. Dipper activated the night-vision setting on his glasses and clicked on his green-light flashlight. _Well, this is cheery,_ he thought as the world became illuminated in eerie greens and blacks.

Even with the chill, damp air hugging him like a cold blanket and promising a frigid downpour any minute, Dipper was still soaked in sweat after a few minutes of hard hiking up the rough trail. He swiped at the moisture on his forehead. _Bill better not have lost or damaged my scarf._ He paused and looked behind him when a cool sensation slid down his spine. Anywhere else, Dipper would have ignored the bead of sweat. But in Gravity Falls Forest, it could have been three other things, none of them friendly at night.

Most Gravity Falls citizens interacted exclusively with the tame supernatural. Few dared venture into the forest at night, especially alone, where the wilder, more dangerous things hunted easier prey in isolated areas away from the town's strength of numbers.

 _Stupid._ Dipper chastised himself again as he resumed his hike, his hand brushing the rough carbon of the baton handle in his new backpack’s side pocket. Worst-case scenarios slunk from the darkness into his mind unbidden, taunting him with thoughts of pain and death looming in the shadowy blackness. The most likely and terrifying was teleporting back into the Deep Forest at night with no electronics, no light, no unexpected help. He started ruminating over nighttime survival techniques that would work in normal and enchanted forests.

Roughly an hour into the hike, the clouds made good on their promise with a fine frosty drizzle. Dipper took cover under a thick willow near a stream, hoping it would pass quickly rather than progress to a soaking downpour. He dared not close his night-vision app to check the weather. _Wonder if Bill’s kept dry with all this rain? Likely hid in a tree...or turned it to blood and danced in it._ He shook his head frowning. _I need to cut him some slack. He can’t even use his powers...as far as I know..._ Another side of him screamed that was the last thing he should do.

Minutes passed but the rain continued. It didn’t intensify however, so Dipper stood and prepared to deal with being a little colder and a lot wetter. “Night-vision and rain…” he muttered as each drop reflected off his flashlight and glittered like millions of shooting stars. In another setting, it would have been beautiful. Here, it only served to make him tenser.

He waved the light around, his nerves amplifying every sense. The rain’s pitter-patter a barrage. The trickling stream like thunder. The heavy musk of the forest almost intoxicating. The leg sticking out of the bush a leg… sticking out… of the bush.

Dipper sucked in a breath, focusing his beam on the leg. It was long and slender with a cloven hoof. Dipper approached, switching the flashlight to his left hand, the bludgeon in his right. It didn’t look like a unicorn’s leg and they rarely ventured to this part of the forest. He used the flashlight to push aside the almost blooming blush. _Bet I'm about to disturb someone’s sleep like an ass._

Dipper swallowed. Hard. The leg ended at the thigh, the upper portion mauled into a mash of pulpy tissue. Night-Vision made the blood on its fur a deep, slick green. He checked around himself. Nothing moved. _I’ll need to report something took out a deer to Tate and Gideon..._ Whenever large predators wandered close to town, such as bears or Dracowyrms, police made sure to relocate them back into the depths.

Dipper checked the surrounding area to find more of the carcass. If he could identify the predator, it’d be invaluable to the police for tracking and relocating. He swallowed hard again, covering his mouth when he looked behind a great oak. The carcass was too mangled to be certain it was the same animal, but what was left of the bones and meat made it a good candidate. It was larger than he’d initially thought, closer to an elk than a deer. Likely a muslaf, a semi-intelligent herd animal resembling a reindeer but more temperate climate adapted. _Probably a straggler from the migratory heard on its way back into the mountains._ “What the hell could have done this to a big girl like you?” He asked as he stood up from examining the beast’s exposed pelvis.

He wasn’t a wildlife expert, but he could see large, widely spaced lacerations deep in the remaining bones near the spine. Smaller nicks and dings covered the carcass. Lack of flies or putrid stench indicated a fresher kill. The ground was still littered with winter’s foliage, thus making animal tracks impossible to find in the dark with his untrained eyes. But, the area was scattered and torn up, which indicated either a struggle between the muslaf and another large creature, or a pack of smaller hunters. From a track and relocate standpoint, he hoped for the former.

He took pictures and stored them in a new folder. He’d run a search based on them later. “May you have died quickly and as painlessly as possible.” The cycle of life held firm even with supernaturals, but that didn’t make it any less sad to find its evidence. He turned back to the trail and continued his trek to the lake. Whether it was from the grisly sight and its implications, or from his impending meeting, every step closer to the lake left his stomach further knotted.

By the time Dipper reached the clearing, he was ready to collapse into a shivering heap and nap. As if the two-hour hike was the last bit of interest his sleep debt could tolerate. _Why didn’t I wait until morning?_ He stifled a groan as he thought about the Speed Drops he’d left back at the Shack. He replaced the bludgeon in his bag, hoping he wouldn’t need it for a while. _Just a quick visit so he knows I haven’t ditched him._ If Bill had any complaints, Dipper had several scathing retorts ready.

“Bill?” he called. Distorted laughter echoed through the clearing. He instinctively dove behind an ash tree. Expecting the lake to be on fire or raining barbed wire, Dipper peeked around the tree.

Bill, glowing brightly and as ostentatiously as when he was in the Mindscape, hovered over the lake. His arms elongated and dunked something into the muddy water. Dipper crept closer for a better look, disengaging his night-vision to protect his eyes from the micro sun that was Bill in the darkness.

In the light of Bill’s glow, Dipper could see red fabric under the water. _Is that my…?_ His face dragged down into a scowl. _That is not what it is used for you miserable geometric…_ He heard a bubbling sound from Bill’s direction, like a low-quality recording of a creek. Bill pulled the now bloated and sopping wet scarf out of the water. Full as it was, hardly a drop escaped. Dipper felt a small swell of pride for Mabel’s handiwork. He leaned closer when Bill flickered, apparently talking to himself but too quietly to overhear. The scarf shimmered in Bill’s hands, indicating its switch from hydrophilic to phobic.

Water exploded from the scarf like a detonated mine. Dipper gasped, fearing Bill had broken his beloved scarf. Normally, the water ran out like a wrung rag with the last drops sliding along it until they fell off. Instead, the four liters hung suspended in the air in all directions, slowly drifting out like a liquid nebula. Dipper cocked his head to the side. _What the..._

The bubbling sound came again. Bill glowed along with it. Realization dawned on the man, his brows shooting up. Laughter. Bill was laughing. Not the insane ‘I’m about to ruin the world’s day’, or anything megalomaniacal. More of a… giggle. Giggling. Bill Cipher was giggling like a toddler splashing in a puddle.

Dipper stepped from around the tree as the triangle dunked the scarf back into the water without having switched settings. Water slowly bubbled up from the surface, rising to hang in a fine mist with the rest of the nebulous water. Bill’s eye scrunched in his version of a smile. He was bright, golden yellow; a drop of sunlight in the night as he watched the water rise.

A smirk played across Dipper’s lips as he leaned against the ash tree. He switched his glasses into recording mode and watched the triangle play, trying not to worry about the repercussions to his scarf. After a few minutes, Dipper decided to interrupt the triangle’s fun, lest he be stuck in the woods the rest of the night.

“Do you always break the laws of physics during your spare time?”

The 32mbps babbling brook stopped as if flash frozen. The crawling queasiness returned to Dipper’s stomach as the triangle turned towards him in non-Euclidean style. His geometry righted itself back into straight lines as he finished the turn and Dipper wasn’t sure if Bill intended to move that way for effect, or if it naturally happened, or was another glitch.

“I’m not doing anything,” Bill said, pulling the scarf close as if to cover himself. His glow dimmed like an eclipsing sun.

Dipper responded with an incredulous look at the waterlogged air.

“Honest!” Bill insisted, “When I turn it to hydrophobic, this is what happens.” He gestured to the half-floating pond around him. “It’s… It’s kinda pretty isn’t it?” Regardless of that not being how hydrophobic objects worked, or whether Bill was telling the truth, -or thought he was-, Dipper was inclined to agree. When a sliver of moonlight managed to peek through a thinner layer of clouds, the silver light made a faint moonbow in the suspended water. He didn’t say anything, but a small smile softened his expression.

They watched the drifting water over the lake mingle with the fine mist of rain until the silence grew awkward. Bill kept glancing at Dipper and wringing the scarf in his little hands. The human had a distinct feeling Bill had something to say. _Stay calm. Don’t lash out,_ he thought as he focused on the lake.

“Thanks for, uh, letting me borrow your scarf… rained a lot since last night,” Bill said, continuing to wring the scarf and avoid eye contact. Dipper curtly nodded. “Um… how’s your… how’s your hand?”

“It’s fine.” Still hurt and would likely scar, but he’d suffered worse.

Right… ok… and, um...sorry about... you know… what I said last night...”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Don’t,” Dipper replied, trying not to let the apology from Bill Cipher, or old memories overwhelm him. He shook his head, “Anyway. Can you put the water back in the pond? There’s already enough in the air from the rain...” The rain seemed to increase as if to emphasize his point and assert its dominance over the invading lake water.

“But I didn’t...” Bill’s color started to desaturate to the ugly gray-yellow of fancy mustard.

Sigh. “Try something. If it works, great. If not… it’s water. People will think it’s more Gravity Falls weirdness.” He was too tired to care more about this particular problem.

Bill turned back to the water, his hat tilting to the side like a person's head, scarf still in hand. After a moment of floating in the air with the water, Bill turned the scarf to hydrophilic and held it in front him. Dipper started another recording while cringing, certain that whatever Bill was about to do would break his scarf this time.

The water in the air began swirling in a whirlpool towards the scarf. Bill’s glow increased as the scarf started absorbing the stream. More and more, at least twice...no, three times as much as the scarf was designed to hold, but it took in the water like a sponge, not losing a drop. Dipper chewed his thumb as he watched, trying to keep the camera steady.

As the last drops slipped into the scarf, Bill sank to the water like a triangular duck and plunged the scarf into the water.

Dipper held his breath, fearing the scarf would absorb the whole lake because of Bill’s power.

The lake’s surface shimmered. Suddenly the water bubbled as if a submerged balloon popped. Ripples blasted outwards from the scarf, waves compared to Bill’s small size. They knocked him flat and pushed him to shore.

Dipper walked over to him, a similar smile to the time Kara first sang her ABCs on his face.

Bill thrust his hands up as he looked at the other, an almost human laugh emanating from him. “Did you see? I did that! I think. I mean, the scarf wasn’t doing that earlier on hydrophilic, so I did that right?”

“Knew you could do it. Good job.” He gave the triangle a thumbs up and congratulatory smile.

“Do what?” Bill scrunched his eye...brow... thing up at him in confusion. Snowflake static flickered across his brick surface.

“Ah... you…” Dipper glanced around the lake for inspiration. He saw his scarf floating on the water’s surface a foot from shore. “You found my scarf. Thanks!” He leaned over and grabbed it.

“Oh...yeah, no problem. You left it here last night. Thought I’d make sure nothing stole it. Did you know it has a neat hydrophobic setting? Came in real handy with all the rain.” Bill rambled as he lifted out of the water without a drop falling from him.

“Is it always this rainy? Never mind, I already know. Funny the dumbest things you remember, right?” He laughed like worn brakes and avoided eye contact.

A chill hollowed his chest as Dipper wrapped the dry but cold scarf around his neck. Bill’s relapse into timidity around him was wild and troubling. Worse, though, was that whatever weird reset thing Bill had going on, robbed him even of small self-discoveries. _Returning his memories seems more and more impossible._ It was likely for the best, but the inability to help in the slightest way left a sour taste in his mouth.

He adjusted his dripped hat and turned to the triangle. “Look, Bill.” The little triangle glanced up from fidgeting with his bowtie. “If you’re worried about last night, don’t be. Don’t bring it up again, but don’t worry.” Dipper tactfully avoided the phrase, ‘forget about it.’ “Let’s see what we can figure out tonight so I can go home and sleep.”

Bill drifted closer, his color becoming more vivid. “Really? So… you weren’t avoiding me all day cuz of… that?” he asked like a child worried the divorce was his fault.

All the retorts and snappy comebacks Dipper had prepared regarding his tardiness seemed cruel and unnecessary in the face of it. He rubbed the back of his neck and scarf. “I had errands to run today. This is the first opportunity I’ve had to meet you. I’m sorry.” The apology was an unexpected addition, one he found he meant rather than said to placate.

“Oh, that makes sense… Wish there was a way we could stay in contact when we’re apart though. That way, if I remember something, I can let you know. Or if you’ll be late, you can let me know!” Images of telegraphs, satellites, smoke signals, phones, cups on strings, and more flashed across his surface as he muttered about humans having invented long distance communication.

“I’ll… see what I can do…” Dipper said while having a minor stroke at the idea of adding Bill to his contact list. “Anyway, do you still have the binder and pen I lent you?” He tried not to add any bite on the word ‘lent’. He didn’t think he succeeded.

Bill’s eye lit up and the images vanished. “Oh! Yes! Here, I stashed it in a tree to keep the rain off.” He zipped away into the forest.

The drizzle fizzled while he waited, so Dipper checked the weather to see how long the reprieve would last. _2:30 already. It’s going to be another all-nighter at this rate. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday… rain, rain, rain. Great._ Fiddling with his scarf, he looked around the soggy woods and sighed. _I’m going to ‘forget’ my scarf again, aren’t I? Damnit Mabel, your good naturedness rubbed off on me too much,_ he thought with a smirk.

Bill zipped back into view, double his previous size to carry the large binder. He looked pleased with himself, and that made Dipper apprehensive.

Bill held the binder out to Dipper and opened it, using a third arm he materialized to turn the pages and point. “I know it’s only been a day or two, but I started practicing some of these memory trigger suggestions written here and… here. I really think they’re working! I wrote down a bunch of stuff I remembered while practicing, look!”

A twinge of a headache formed as Dipper tried to keep pace with Bill as he sped through pages and explained about his success with Test Your Recall. Finally, he stopped the triangle’s excited rant to actually read what Bill remembered.

Once again, Bill’s writing meandered all over the place and in all directions. Dipper took the book from Bill, leaned against a relatively dry tree, and started twisting the binder around to follow the writing. Mabel would cringe and chastise Dipper for wanting to box Bill in and ruin his creative soul, but he felt she’d make an exception in Bill’s case. At least Bill stuck to mostly modern English. Dipper could read a couple different languages, but it slowed down the process.

Bill hovered over Dipper’s shoulder, tapping his fingers together like a little kid waiting for a parent to praise their artwork. It wasn’t a bad comparison considering the notebook also displayed more doodles than words. The new ones consisted of Bill in silly poses and styles, like manga, 18th-century impressionism, and pointillism. They were good for pen doodles. _Wonder if Bill inspired the original artists?_ He shuddered at the thought of the great inventor da Vinci working with Bill to build an archaic portal to take over Europe.

Alongside the doodles were drawings of terrible beasts and monsters that would scatter a person’s sanity. Those were not what made the icy fingers of dread creep down his spine. No, it was the pine tree symbols sprinkled throughout the binder. Some were tiny things drawn like an afterthought. Others were more subtle, hidden in other images. A few blank pages on the back of documents contained whole coniferous forests.

“So, tell me about these doodles,” he asked casually, fearing the answer but having to know all the same.

“Oh… well,” Bill said, tapping his fingers and looking at the grass. “They sort of popped in my mind. I’d be writing an amazing answer when pop! Crazy awesome drawing shows up on the page.”

“Mmm...And what about the pine trees? You’re in the forest. Could have referenced other kinds. Are they your favorite type or something?” Dipper’s skin crawled as he flipped through a few examples.

“Pine trees? I only drew creatures like Oshcoshbagosh the Insatiable, and Teddy- Weeper of Sorrow. There’re some flaming cyclopes in there too. But trees are boring.” He flicked his hand and rolled his eye.

Dipper flipped the binder around to show him a page full of stylized pine trees. He kept his expression as neutral as possible.

Bill drifted closer, inspecting the drawings. After too long and intense a moment, he shrugged, his top angle swaying like the golden gate bridge on a windy day. “I mean, I guess I drew them. Dunno why. Totally boring. But the drawings aren’t the important part. Well, they are. I drew them since it was something I remembered which must be important. But the real important part is what I wrote!” He jabbed at a swirling block of text on the next page.

While Dipper was impressed that Bill filled out the entire binder since the previous night -and glad the answers progressed from scribbled ‘I can’t remember’s- he didn’t understand what Louis the 3rd had to do with Bill’s grandmother, or any of the rest of the rambling nonsense. _Does he even have a grandmother?_

Regardless, seeing his associated symbol, the pine tree, from Bill’s Summoning Circle, gave Dipper an idea. Testing it could be dangerous, but curiosity won out over caution. _If Bill can’t remember drawing the pine trees, what will seeing other symbols do?_

“Hey! What are you doing? I worked hard on that!” Bill demanded as Dipper pulled out a pen and flipped to a blank page.

Ignoring Bill, and his screaming instincts, Dipper doodled Robbie’s symbol, the mended heart. Mabel’s shooting star came to mind first, but he didn’t want to drag her into this if he could help it. Robbie’s symbol, however, was quick and easy to draw. Moreover, the moderately successful artist was far away in Venice; or so Dipper had last heard from Wendy, who had heard from Tambry in turn.

Dipper flipped the binder around to show Bill the sketch of the stitched up heart. “Does this mean anything to you?” he asked, watching Bill for any reaction. _Not sure how I want this to go…_

Bill stared at the heart symbol and rubbed his hat. To Dipper’s chagrin, Bill looked up to the sky, unbothered by the rain as he ‘hmmed’ and ‘mmed’ several times without reply.

“Well?” Dipper finally prompted.

“Well what?”

“Uhh… What do you think of this symbol?” He held the binder closer to the triangle.

Bill glanced at the symbol and shrugged. “You should hang up your paintbrushes.” He answered matter-of-factly before floating off, hands clasped behind him.

Dipper stared open-mouthed. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but an insult to his artistic skills hadn’t been it. _At least I know the symbols don’t affect him, not in the same way memory triggers do anyway._

As Bill drifted around the trees on the outskirts of the glade, Dipper flipped through the binder again, hunting for his next plan of action. _I need to call some experts. Do I still have the contact info for Grunkle Stan’s Neurologist? Taking Bill to a doctor is out of the question though… Does he even function on organic chemistry?_ Dipper wondered as he browsed through academic jargon on brain biology and memory loss.

“Heads up!”

Inches from Dipper’s face, a red squirrel materialized out of thin air and landed on the ground with a startled squeak. Dipper had seconds to see the squirrel wore a collar and contraption on its neck before the panicked critter make a beeline for the nearest tree.

“Bill! Nab that squirrel!” Dipper shouted as he lunged for it himself, missing horrendously. _If that collar’s what I think it is..._

Bill floated back into the glade in time to see Dipper skid through the mud while the squirrel scampered up a tree, chittering wildly. Without a word, he zoomed after it. He dipped and weaved through the growing leaves of the oak like a well-controlled paper airplane. The squirrel knew the tree better and evaded capture until Bill’s arms grew and twisted like flexible silly straws. A moment later, the squirrel was futilely flailing and squealing, going as far as biting and scratching Bill’s hands as Bill returned to Dipper. “Wanna tell me what’s the big deal about this thing?”

“I need to see its collar. Um, why don’t you hold onto it...but be gentle, ok? Don’t hurt it,” Dipper said when Bill thrust the struggling squirrel at him. Bill shrugged and kept hold of the animal.

Dipper leaned forward, outside of biting range, to examine the squirrel’s collar. It was a thin leather strap with a small box attached to the back where the squirrel would struggle to damage it, and out of the way during squirrely maneuvers. Stamped in tiny print on top was a GM2 logo.

“Wow, didn’t think your species had that tech yet,” Bill commented as Dipper examined the device.

“Yeah,” Dipper smiled, “We have a lot of great geniuses.” He looked up at Bill, “So it is a Faraday cage that works?”

“‘Works’ is a loose term. It’s functioning, but not well.”

“What would you change to make it better?” Dipper meant it out of pure curiosity, but it sounded challenging and petulant.

Bill flickered in response, his eye flashing through dozens of images too fast for Dipper to guess. The squirrel by now had tired itself out and submitted quietly to its fate. “Pleurilium,” Bill finally answered, his eye stable on a mundane, shiny, gray ore. “Far superior to the Ferrite this thing is made out of for blocking most radiation, but leaving radio waves accessible.”

Dipper raised a brow, “Haven’t heard of that one.” He carefully slipped the collar off now that the squirrel had stopped struggling. He’d take it back to McGucket for analysis, then find a new squirrel host.

“Duh, your collective knowledge as a species is tragically limited. It’s an oxygen metal compressed into a solid form. You can find it all over the place in Dimension 974\C.”

 _Does he think we can pick that up at the local gas station?_ “What about another method of tracking these guys when they teleport? The process seems to fry anything electronic.”

“Hence the Faraday cage.”

“Yes. Mc...a colleague of mine is working on an isotope as a fallback. The idea is to inject it into the squirrels. Something non-toxic and easily tracked but is still distinguishable from any noise. No false positives or interference. The goal is to find a pattern to the teleportation bubbles and pinpoint their source.”

“That’s a tall order for your current level of tech,” Bill said as he switched the squirrel’s position to hold it like a cat and pet it. The squirrel remained placid.

“Yes, well. He said he’s close but can’t figure out what’s missing to make it last long enough to track.” Dipper opened the gallery on his glasses and projected the image he had taken earlier at McGucket’s of the experimental isotope.

“Your glasses are working again. The gold’s a nice touch.”

“Please don’t fry them again.”

Bill flushed tangerine as he turned his attention to the schematics. His surface started flickering through images. Finally, he stabilized again and voiced his opinion, “A tracking device like what you humans use for controlling your planes would work much better than trying to track a new isotope.”

“Yes, but they’d short out from the teleportation.”

“So you need a different power source. Dimension 540-c developed a non-electronic, blood-based battery ages ago. Power the tracker with that little doodad and as long as the blood’s pumping, the tracker will keep working. Best part, it degrades after a few weeks and absorbs back into the body so there are no long term issues.”

Dipper sat stunned for a moment. “That… that would be perfect. Can you show me how to make it? Is the tech compatible with this dimension?” It was still mind boggling the multiverse was real and that many dimensions knew of each other, even had an interdimensional governing body. One of the rules, Great Uncle Ford had told them, was that smuggling tech between dimensions is illegal. Sometimes it was impossible and would degrade the tech or the dimension it was smuggled into due to different periodic tables and natural laws governing the various dimensions. _But if we make it here, then it isn’t technically smuggling. Annnd there’s Grunkle Stan’s influence._

Bill tipped his hat forward. “Sure, I can show ya how to make it. Bonus, it’s made from a near identical dimension to this so there won’t be a conflict of chemicals.”

“Great! Tell me what to do and I’ll pass it onto my colleague,” Dipper said, switching his glasses over to note taking mode.

“Mmmmm,” Bill said petting the squirrel and looking down on it, “No.”

“What? Why not?” Dipper asked like a classmate denied a promised cheat sheet minutes before the quiz.

“Because this will be a huge step in your investigation, courtesy of me. Where as I’ve received nothing in return so far regarding my memories. If we were partners before, then I’m betting we kept things fair and equal between us.”

Dipper bit his tongue to keep from derisively snorting.

“So, you want the schematics to tag these fluffy, little meat sacks, you have to give me something that will actually help me.”

Dipper took a deep breath. “Bill, I’ve already told you I’m not an expert concerning amnesia. I’ve been doing the best I can so far to help you. I made that entire binder for you. Which, by the way, you said was helping. What’s more, I left my scarf here for you last night, which kept you dry.”

“Yeah but…”

“And, your method of return caused another problem. I take it you haven’t yet figured out a way to bring Johnson back?” Bill paled and looked away. Dipper nodded, “That’s what I thought. Ergo, giving me this schematic will be the first useful thing you’ve done for me.” Dipper crossed his arms resolutely.

“But I saved you from running off a cliff!”

“Only because you scared the living shit out of me.”

“Not my fault you can't control your colon,” Bill muttered.

The squirrel squeaked in protest when Bill’s fingers changed from petting to scraping its back, its fur fluffing as if statically charged. Bill dropped it as if shocked in turn. The squirrel raced towards the nearest and highest object in its panic. In this instance, it was Dipper. It leaped up on his chest before he could react, claws scrabbling for purchase. The squirrel didn’t take long to realize its mistake and clambered up and over his chest before launching off his back and into the forest.

Dipper pursed his lips and checked over his coat for tears rather than glare at Bill, who had crossed his arms over his bowtie. As he checked his coat, a thin cylindrical protrusion in his pocket caught his interest. He paused trying to recall what he’d slipped in there.

Dipper sucked in a breath. _The memory potion._

He glanced at Bill. _Would he deem it a fair trade? What if it doesn’t work? What if it does? Talk about conflict of interest._

Before he decided, Soos’ picture appeared on his glasses’ HUD and the sweet sounds of his ringtone danced around the glade. He considered dismissing the call because if Bill talked, and Soos heard, he might recognize the distinctive voice. _But if I ignore it, he might think I teleported again and come looking for me._

Dipper put a finger to his lips to tell Bill to shush as he answered the call. “Hey Soos, what’s up?” He asked while wondering what was with the smirk on Bill’s… eye. _Please don’t shout._ He hated when people did that even when he wasn’t trying to hide someone. Too bad his niece and nephew LOVED to do it regardless of countless requests.

“Dawg, you’ve been gone almost five hours. I woke up to... heh, you know… and I saw you still weren't back. Wanted to make sure you’re okay and stuff. You know, cuz last time… But I figured that wouldn’t happen to you again. But I thought, hey, why not check? Ya know dude?”

Dipper smiled. “Yeah, no. I’m fine. Just… got distracted in the forest. You know how I am. Thanks for checking though.”

“Okay, dude. Stay safe. I’ll see you soon! Later!” Soos hung up before Dipper could tell him he needn’t wait up for him. Dipper's sigh turned into a yawn. Bill’s staticky laughing brought his attention back from bed to the glade.

“Oh wow, PI, really? That’s so nerdy! Catchy, but nerdy.” He continued to chuckle.

Dipper’s cheeks warmed in indignation, “Hey, you recognized it. That’s pretty nerdy in itself!” So far, five others had recognized it outright. Four had been on his college campus; the other had been off the street in Germany. He was still friends with them all, which gave credence to Mabel’s ‘Nerd Call’ theory.

“Pssh,” Bill flicked his hand, “It’s so obvious to anyone with half a neuron firing. Although truth be told, Euler’s Number is much more pleasing.” A piano melody started emitting from the triangle that Dipper guessed was Euler’s Number translated to music. Dipper had to admit that the sound was nice, but he was keeping his PI.

“So, that your colleague you’ve been talking about or a friend of yours?” Bill asked when the tune ended.

“Um… my friend,” Dipper answered. Bill had likely only heard Soos’ voice, so he wouldn't be in any danger, hopefully.

“Must be nice having friends,” Bill said, “people you can rely on and have a good time with.” He turned away towards the lake, slowly dropping down to eye level next to Dipper and wrapping his hands around his knees as he hovered in the air.

Dipper watched the triangle, a frown pulling at his lips. “You don’t remember your friends at all?”

Bill’s top hat shook minutely, while he watched the moon dance across the lake’s rippling surface. “I can remember countless faces and names, even most of their histories.” His surface started to spin through a blur of images, some that looked like faces, some shapes, and others Dipper didn’t want to guess. “But I can’t recall how I’m related to them, why I know them, or where I met them. It makes me feel... like…” he trailed off with a shrug and a crackling sigh.

While it made sense, Bill’s amnesia towards his relationships struck a sharp chord. The tense days following Grunkle Stan’s world saving sacrifice, and now the Alzheimer’s, which no amount of scrapbooks shoved in his face cured. Dipper’s hand thumbed the vial still in his pocket.

 _I could tell him about his friends. I certainly can’t forget them. He’d likely forget them though, and it would cast doubt on my work partners’ story._ He swallowed the sour taste that returned. “We’ll keep working at it. I’m sure we’ll make a breakthrough soon. It just takes time.” Bill remained silent.

They sat in silence for a time. Dipper wanted to move things along so he could return home and make sure Soos wasn’t up all night like him. However, it felt like breaking the solemn atmosphere would be like a phone ringing during a funeral.

While he waited, mulling over his own thoughts and troubles, a little number on his glasses HUD caught his attention when it increased from 86% to 87%. _Weren’t they closer to 50% when I arrived?_ Soos’s fix made them operational again, but they drained fast. He blinked open his battery’s charge indicator.

 _But… why… how are they charging?_ The battery percent increased to 88%. _Is it this glade? Or being near a recent teleportation provides residual energy? Or..._ He glanced over to Bill sitting mere inches from his face. His soft glow like pale yellow moonlight. _I guess that makes sense. Being of pure energy and all. But great. That means he is exposing me to some sort of radiation. Does explain the tingling in my face…_ In fact, now that he noticed it, the pins and needles along his cheek were rather uncomfortable, and he was warmer than damp clothes on a cool night should allow.

With the threat of radiation poisoning, Dipper stood to leave. He brushed his pants off, succeeding only in smearing mud around his legs. It was too dark to see, but he likely had grass stains on his knees from chasing the squirrel.

“You’re leaving?” Bill asked as Dipper retrieved his backpack from the ground.

“Yeah, I.”

“Doesn’t matter. Not like we were making any progress anyway.” Bill settled on the soggy ground, his bricks a moldy orange color.

“If you gave me the schematics, some progress would be made,” Dipper replied. Bill remained silent, staring at the lake like a petulant child. Dipper threw his backpack on, prepared to act equally petty, until his thumb brushed against the vial again. He pulled it out. The fluid was a dull green and viscous instead of classic evil green and bubbling. _Well, if he wants collateral…_ He ground his teeth, pride raging against the compromise, fear against the risk.

“Bill,” Dipper turned around, the vial clamped in his hand, “if you give me the schematics for that tracking device, I’ll give you this supposed memory potion from a local witch.” Dipper clamped his mouth shut at the triangle swiveled fast enough to bend reality around him. His eye locked onto the vial in Dipper’s hand.

“Why didn’t you mention that before?” His voice crackled like a swarm of angry bees, eye narrowed as he zoomed over to Dipper.

“Because…,” Dipper stepped back. “Because I received it today. It’s untested and the witch isn’t particularly known for her effective brews. Not sure if it’d work on humans, let alone… something else. It might help… it might kill you… or who knows what.” One of those options would solve many of Dipper’s current and potential future problems. But he found himself not wanting to be the one to assassinate Bill, at least not at the moment. _I gave him all the disclaimers at least_.

Bill held out his hand. “Gimmie.”

“Bill, I’m serious. No idea what this will actually do.”

“Don’t care. Give me. I hate living like this.”

Dipper sighed. “Alright. But,” he held back the potion as Bill reached for it, “I want the schematics first.” Bill looked about to protest. “If this does do something bad to you, I at least don’t want to be gypped my end of the bargain.” _Again._

Bill’s hand pulled back a fraction. The third warning of potential doom from mysterious liquid finally giving him pause. Then, his eye set in determination and he jerked his hand out again with a terse, “fine.”

Dipper clamped down on his tongue and held the vial closer, but didn’t hand it over yet. The implication as he shook it clear.

Bill glared and huffed but closed his eye. A blink later, his eye produced a 3-D hologram of a complicated set of equations and schematics. Dipper took pictures of everything that appeared and uploaded them to the cloud he’d programmed to kill switch send to Mabel and the others if he didn’t cancel it every night, in case the memory potion worked. Once done, Dipper handed over the vial.

Bill grabbed, uncorked, and downed the concoction in one fluid movement.

Dipper held his breath as a black tongue licked around the jagged teeth of Bill’s eye mouth. Silent prayers and goodbyes raced through his mind as he waited. Finally, Bill returned his eye to normal and rubbed thoughtfully underneath it. Dipper stayed silent. Maybe if he didn’t attract Bill’s attention, he’d let him live long enough to warn someone.

“I think… I think I remember something.” Bill rubbed his upper sides, eye scrunched. “Something about a book? No… a…”

Dipper had experienced many heart-stopping, dramatic moments in his life. He wished he could repeat one of those than hear whatever Bill was about to remember.

“Oh yeah, the binder!” He zipped back down and flipped wildly through the amnesia binder on the ground. “I forgot to go back and fill out one of the questions.”

Dipper felt like his bones melted in relief. Bill showed no outward signs of the potion having worked more than a blip, if at all. He schooled himself to breathe out slowly instead of laughing, lest he key Bill in on the issue.

Dipper watched Bill flip through the binder until the battery icon appeared on his glasses denoting a full charge. Dipper smirked. _Radiation poisoning or not, it’s kinda useful._ “Alright Bill, I’m heading back before the sun comes up. Stay outta trouble.” Bill hummed and waved without looking up from the journal. Dipper returned the gesture and started walking away.

Drip drip plink drip plink. Droplets peppered the soggy world, rolling off branches and budding foliage.

 _Damn. Couldn’t hold out till after the hike back, huh?_ He clicked the scarf to hydrophilic and draped it over his hat. At least he’d be drier on the return hike.

“Guess it’s back to the tree for now.”

Dipper grimaced at the sound of the binder slamming shut. He unraveled the scarf from his neck with a sigh. _I’d already figured I would earlier…_ He walked back over to Bill and draped the scarf over the triangle and the binder.

Bill’s eye widened as he peeked up at Dipper from under the red scarf. “You sure?”

“Just don’t make any more fog banks with it. I don’t want it to break.” Dipper refused to look at Bill because he looked too much like Kara reading picture books under her blanket past bedtime.

“Sure thing!” Bill replied as he arranged the scarf better over himself and the binder. “Um, Dipper,” Bill said, sounding shy. “Could you ask that witch for more memory potion? Please? Maybe it’ll work better with more. Please? I’ll pay you back. I could gather up a bunch of squirrels and critters for your tracking program?”

Dipper mulled it over. It was risky, and the witch still kooky. But, having the squirrels rounded up and ready to go would be invaluable, and give Bill something to do while he was away. It was also hard to deny the triangle when he was wrapped up in his scarf and looking at him like how Theo did when begging for chocolate when they both knew his parents had said no.

He sighed and rubbed his head, “Yeah, alright. I’ll ask for more. I’ll try to be back tomorrow but I don’t know how long making the potion will take. So, stay in the area and don’t let anyone see you while squirrel hunting. And don’t hurt them. Ok?”

“Yo got it! See ya soon. And Dipper, thanks.”

Dipper smiled, just a little. He nodded and waved as he walked out of the glade.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Water fell from the brim of his hat, his hands, everywhere. Two minutes into the walk back down the path, the rain had become another deluge. Even with night vision, it was almost impossible to see.

He waited out the worst of it in the glade with Johnson’s statue. Along with another memory potion request, Dipper added anti-petrification and similar magic to the witch list. As the rain slowed, he made another promise to the teen that he would restore him before carrying on with the hike.

As the sky teased hints of light, a series of howls shattered the silent hike. They didn’t sound too close, but that didn’t stop Dipper from recalling the Muslaf, and picking up the pace.

Finally, after slipping and sliding down the trail, and almost rolling his ankle, Dipper found his bike. He was filthy, his bike was soaked, and his helmet a fishbowl. As he pulled the bike onto the road, he formulated a story for his prolonged absence and dismal state. He grimaced at the thought of starting a journal to keep all his stories straight.

The bike hummed to life. He activated the extra nighttime lights for visibility, put on his soggy helmet and took off down the road. Mystery Lane came into view a few minutes later, sparking hope for a warm fireplace and blankets. Lots of blankets.

Woop Woop!

A siren blared as the road behind him became illuminated with flashing red and blue lights.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, this new chapter brightened your Labor Day weekend! (I seriously want to draw Bill petting the squirrel in his arms XD) Comments, Kudos and feedback always welcomed!
> 
> Chapter 13 is in the works. I have a new job though finally, WOOT! But it means I have less writing time. I will make every effort to have chapter 13 out by the beginning of October.


	14. Sheriff for a Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper finds out how hot the water he's in is as new players come in to help solve the mystery and complicate his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the long awaited chapter 14! Thank you for your patience, kudos, and comments. They help me punch procrastination and self-doubt in the face to bring you updates as quickly as possible. I hope you enjoy this chapter as I think it's my longest yet, 12k words. Took something like 24 hours worth of editing. I've also done some experimenting with this chapter, and the next few to follow. Let me know if you're digging this experiment and I'll see what else I can do to keep it going.   
> Love you all, now, onto the story!

The dashboard computer was quiet. Only three minor instances reported and in the investigation queue. A noise complaint from an Octowl screeching and waking folks. James loitering by the mall before opening hours again, bottle in hand. Bit of property damage to Willamina’s garden when Samuel Ray skid out on the wet roads from last night’s rain. Gideon smiled to himself, humming along to the country song on the radio. _A quiet night is a good night’s work. Should reward the night shift for a job well done._

Gideon glanced at the passenger to his right. Technically, there should be four calls in for the night. But this was a special, off the record case. Not that Dipper knew. The contented smile slipped from Gideon’s face as Dipper returned his glance with a hostile side-eyed glare. His fingers drummed a tense beat on his wet helmet.

 “Say, what’re those bikes and high-tech helmets running these days? Been needing some newer equipment for the force.” Gideon kept his tone conversational, trying to ease the tension in the car.

The last vehicle upgrade had been nine years ago after his appointment to sheriff. His father had sold the used car dealership when Gideon had announced he wouldn’t be following the family business. But Bud Gleeful still had his connections. After Gideon and the department raised funds using a home-brew musical, Bud helped them purchase newer police vehicles at a steep discount.

“Why, your henchmen bored with scooters and segways?” Dipper retorted. He glared at Gideon’s rain-streaked window reflection. Hands clenched around his helmet as if it’d be taken from him.

Gideon’s grip on the wheel tightened. The tension in the car tripling. _Little ground weasel! No one insults my crew! Should cuff him on grounds of being uncooperative._ Gideon took a deep breath, held it for five seconds, then exhaled. _Settle down Gideon, he’s talking from a place of anger. Don’t stoop to his level._ He sat higher in his gray leather and fabric seat. A fair compromise between comfort and cost.

A sour taste like gum chewed too long filled his mouth as he thought about why Dipper was in his car at all. Even if he had begrudgingly climbed in the passenger seat without much fuss, if what Gideon had been told was true, Dipper should have been in custody a long time ago.

The white car with a powder blue line along its sides and Gravity Falls crest on the front doors slowed to a halt at a deserted four-way intersection. Gideon flipped stations and turned up the radio to restore his good humor before they returned to the town proper. He hummed in approval as an electric banjo twang filled the car. “Oldie but a goodie.” Gideon turned right on Garret road and matched the drumbeat on his steering wheel to counter Dipper’s impatient tapping finger.

Mist shrouded trees standing guard of the forest of secrets thinned as they neared town. “Country only plays oldies because they never produce anything new,” Dipper criticized as Jason Aldean started singing about his perfect country girl.

“Says the guy who listens to that repetitive, mind-numbing noise you call music.” Gideon smiled, feeling his groove coming back as the other huffed and grumbled about meditative focus music. “Whatever you need to justify listening to bad music.”

Neither said another word as they passed the frontier buildings of Gravity Falls proper. Gideon continued to hum along with the music, window down, hand hanging out to tap on the door. He noted Dipper’s goosebumps and shivers while ignoring the growing hostility radiating off his damp passenger. _Serves him right, insulting my team and music._ Gideon pulled up to Maple Street. _Speaking of._

“You a doughnut or a bagel man?” Gideon asked. His left onto Maple Street turned Dipper from scowling out the window to raising a confused brow in his direction.

“More of a ‘take me home so I can change and go to sleep’ sort.”

Gideon chuckled, “Not today, my friend.” He waved as they passed Mr. Gremul walking his cat. Dipper slumped back against the seat like a child denied dessert before dinner.

A stoplight later, Gideon pulled into Daily Dough’s parking lot next to a green Ford Eon. Dipper sighed with an exaggerated eye roll. “It’s too early for cop clichés.”

Gideon paid him no mind as he hopped from the cruiser and plugged the car into the charging booth underneath the solar panel awning. Two other vehicles sat in the lot, an old red Chevy Blitz, and a new teal model Honda Azure. The old Chevy was likely Tim Frenden’s and the green Ford had to be Toby’s. Gideon had seen the teal Honda around recently. _One of them new families at the new Indigo Apartments?_ He'd have to introduce himself later.

He strolled to the passenger side and opened the door for Dipper. “Can’t leave ya in the car. You know that. ‘Sides, looks like you could use something good to eat.” _Lot more than that._ The man had a twig in his hair and looked as if he’d been mud-wrestling pigs all night. But Gideon would have time later to find out why.

An uncomfortable tension arose as Gideon stepped back from the door. Moments crept by with Dipper staring at him, unmoving like a petulant child, before finally climbing out of the squad car. Gideon tensed as he closed it, keeping an eye on the other in case he took off. Dipper crossed his arms hard, shoulders hunched against the wind and trod towards the doughnut shop. _Nice to know the man still has some sense in him._

Daily Dough’s was a staple family shop in Gravity Falls, recently celebrating its tenth anniversary. They celebrated their “tenthiversary” with a complete remodel, reopening on the big day with a whole new look and expanded seating and menu. Gone were the sterile grays and whites of a cold New York feel, replaced by a cheery yellow and purple palette. The seating now had plush booths and cozy tables for two along with a down to business breakfast counter for those who needed a quick bite.

Despite the early morning and sparse parking lot, the call of rising dough brought in about a dozen patrons. The air was abuzz with the pleasant soundtrack of mixed conversations, clinking utensils, and light piano. Gideon greeted each patron by name as he and Dipper walked towards the order line. There was Keith Jain, grabbing breakfast before returning to their writing. Tim at the counter, coming home from a long night’s work at the mill, and Faye Daidson, soon off to her office.

“Sheriff and Dipper, together?” A quavering voice and hideous face called them to a stop. The conversations around the room quieted.

_And there’s Toby._ Gideon forced the grin to stay on his face as he turned to the short man.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Toby Determined quipped with his mouth full of bagel, “What’s the scoop?” A few others looked up from their meals.

Gideon chuckled. _Good old Toby. Always the nosy sort._ Granted, Toby wasn’t wrong to point out the oddity of them together. All the old citizens knew their history and even the new folks noticed their translucent animosity. But they were adults now. They needn’t act petty or immature about ancient history. Gideon clapped Dipper on his shoulder, rooting the man in place. “Ol’ Dipper’s having some trouble crackin’ the case. So he came to the expert.”

Dipper shirked the hand off and turned heel to glare at Gideon. “Oh, judging by Dipper’s state, should have come to you sooner,” Toby chuckled, “Care to comment, Dipper?” The man leaned forward, eager for a sweet scoop for his home-brewed wannabe news blog.

Dipper took a deep breath and let it out like Gideon had done to calm himself earlier. His hand ran through his hair, finally finding the twig in it. He pulled plucked it out and handed it to Toby a moment later, smirk on his face. “Turns out, the trees are starting to eat people. Here’s the proof.” The other towns’ folks chuckled, catching the sarcasm in the man’s tone.

Toby did not. “Wow! This will make the Evening Inquirer for sure.” Toby pulled out a pen and pad to jot down notes. “Thanks Dipper, my man!”

Dipper gave a sly smirk to Gideon and strolled up to the counter, hands casually in his pockets.

Gideon face palmed as the faux reporter wrote in his notepad. “Keep the sensationalism to a minimum willya, Toby?” Whether the trollish man’s nodding was in response to the request or his own musings, Gideon didn’t know. He shook his head and joined Dipper at the counter.

The heavenly scent of fresh breads and baked goods was almost overpowering this close to the kitchen. Dipper’s stomach growled like a bear. Gideon’s echoed the sentiment.

“Good Morning Señor Luciano,” Gideon picked his hat up in greeting. “¿Cómo está tu familia?”

“Si, buenos dias, Señor Sheriff, Señor Dipper!” the hunched, leathery man with dyed black hair called from behind the counter. “Los nietos son tan bulliciosos como siempre. ¿Cómo están ustedes dos hoy?”

“La mañana es brillante y todo está bien. Y tu?” Gideon answered. Dipper nodded. The old man smiled and jokingly grumbled about his old hips. The sheriff and Luciano shared another chuckle before the old man gestured to the array of baked goods in the glass display and loaded shelves. “What you like today, señor?”

An elderly woman, Leandra, and younger gentleman, Ricardo, came out from the kitchen, doors swinging behind them as they placed fresh loaves of bread on cooling racks. Roasted cinnamon and apple with a hint of nutmeg wafted through the dining area. Tim audibly sniffed and hummed in approval. “Señor Sheriff, Señor Dipper, Qué gusto verte de nuevo,” Leandra said with a toothy smile. Ricardo shyly waved at Dipper before hustling back into the kitchen.

While Gideon and the elderly couple chatted, Dipper took several careful steps backwards, trying to slink away like a cat from water. He wasn’t slick enough by a long shot and the sheriff clamped a hand on his shoulder again. “Why don’t you choose first, Dipper,” he suggested, pushing Dipper forward. He saw Ricardo glancing at Dipper from the kitchen and resisted the urge to tease him like they were high school chums.

Dipper seemed to notice Ricardo’s look too. He cleared his throat and focused on the menu. “Jumbo espresso. Six extra shots, por favor.” The old man raised a brow, revealing his dark brown eyes for the first time as he punched the order into the tablet. “Long night. Hard morning.” Dipper responded to the unspoken question of his liquid cardiac arrest.

Gideon shook his head. _Caffeine overdose is kinder than what’s coming for him._

When asked what he’d like to eat, Dipper glanced around the offerings. On the top shelf sat a gigantic caramel-glazed monkey bread. The most expensive pastry on the menu. Dipper pointed to it. “Sheriff said it’s on him.” Luciano moved his concerned look from Dipper to confirm with Gideon. Dipper even had the audacity to smirk back at Gideon, daring him to contradict him in public. Gideon let it pass with a nod to Luciano and a smile promising karmic retribution. _Monkey bread suits him._ Luciano retrieved the pastry with the Feeds 12 sticker.

Gideon stepped up to the counter, placed, and paid for his order. “Since Dipper was sweet enough to order the Monkey Bread for the crew, how about two dozen variety doughnuts and bagels with the fixings, two gallons of premium roast coffee, and two gluten-free croissants.” Homer was still on his special diet. He winked at Dipper who stood off to the side glowering at him. While Luciano loaded boxes with the doughnuts and filled two pour-boxes of coffee, Ricardo brought Dipper the three-foot pastry and coffee. The sheriff didn’t miss their little exchange.

A small card with an obvious name and phone number accompanied Dipper’s heart attack of coffee and carbs. Ricardo tried to ask about Dipper’s unkempt state, if he was alright. Dipper tucked the card in his pants pocket without looking at it and curtly replied about hiking troubles. Gideon tsked as Dipper walked away from the deflated man without a second glance. Ricardo slunk back to the kitchen with his mother as Dipper returned to wait by Gideon.

“Treat all your admirers that way?”

“He has a boyfriend.”

“Broke up two months ago, caught Juan in their own bed with Zeke. Been in a slump since. Bet it took a lot to give you that number.”

Dipper’s hand clenched harder around his monkey bread, denting the box. “What’d you do this time, hack n’ tap everyone’s smart homes?” Dipper took a hard swig of his coffee. “Give me the keys and I’ll start the car.”

A derisive chuckle. “Old car or not, still thumbprint locked. And you’re one to harp about hacking, Pines. These days I do a little thing called honest social interaction. You should try it sometime. Oh, looks like that’s us!”

Gideon caught Luciano’s wave and walked over to pick up his order. “How about you help me carry the goods instead? Win their hearts coming to the station with them.”

Dipper lifted his cup and monkey bread to show his hands were full. “They like me without the bribery.”

“Oh I know.” Gideon replied as he picked up the bag of baked goods on one arm and carried a jug in each hand. “But, think of it like earning those upchirps on that site. Can’t have enough of those right?”

“Upcheeps,” Dipper corrected under his breath, “It’s called Cheep Cheep.” Several eyes followed Dipper or looked between him and the sheriff as Dipper walked out the door.

Gideon’s victory soured like milk as he followed Dipper out of the store, a pleasant goodbye to each patron. Even without Toby’s help, the town would be aflutter with gossip. _Should have left him locked in the car._

Dipper leaned against the building in a patch of sunlight sipping his coffee, looking like a teen asking for a loitering ticket.

“Surprised you didn’t run off,” Gideon remarked as he placed the coffee on top of the car next to the excessive monkey bread and pulled out his key FOB. The car unlocked with a BoopBoop.

“Thought about it,” Dipper replied and walked over to the passenger side. No help offered as Gideon sat breakfast in the backseat.

Gideon half frowned in annoyance as he climbed in the driver’s seat. _Barely sunup and he’s fixin’ for a night in jail._ Gideon buckled his seatbelt and started the car. Dipper followed suit like an afterthought rather than ingrained reflex. _Too much time on a bike._

Gideon waved to Serelt as they pulled into the parking lot while he waited to make a left. His peaceful town was finally rousing from a good night’s sleep.

A guitar riff from Gideon’s smartwatch interrupted the serenity of early morning in the town. “Sheriff” an excited voice shouted through the watch, “You need to return to the station pronto! We got another 2316 on our hands!” The message ended with a clamor of chants and cheers in the background. A moment later, the code popped up on the computer screen. Any officer awake this early would head to the station and make quite a ruckus.

Pinching the bridge of his nose with his thick fingers, Gideon sighed like a father whose child kept eating glue. “Gosh Darnit. Right after I bought them a reward for being good. Told them how many times, you know?” Gideon asked Dipper.

The other shrugged and sipped his coffee. “Sounds like bad management.”

“Should have asked for some sugar in that coffee, Mr. Bitter.” The wheels screeched in protest on the wet road as Gideon hit the gas harder than necessary. “Least you’ll have some entertainment when we arrive at the station. Last time it was a Honeydew.” Dipper choked on his coffee and answered with a horrified look.

 

Bright morning sun evaporated hazy mist as they drove through town. Gideon returned to humming along with the radio, ignoring his watch as it blew up with messages and images from eager officers.

Dipper pulled off his glasses and wiped them down for a third time, each more agitated than the last. Finally, at a stop light, Dipper said, “Time to level with me Gideon. You demand I come with you like it's an emergency, but then you make a pit stop and act like we're chummy. So, what's this about? If you want me to work with you on the case, you could have asked me to meet you at the station later today, instead of making me abandon my bike in the woods. It wasn’t cheap you know.”

“You never did say how much it cost,” Gideon responded. “Fine, fine.” Gideon waved his hand at Dipper’s seething glare. He’d wanted to wait for the right moment to tell the man, mostly so he could record his reaction. But, Dipper looked ready to assault an officer. “I was gonna book you under the pretense of hacking police files. Oh yes,” he smirked, “I know about that, tell you about my brilliance later. But the truth is your sister called me.”

Gideon let the revelation hang in the air a moment. Watched as Dipper’s ire drained like an unclogged sink. “Don’t you dare drop that coffee in my nice, clean car.” _Well, almost clean._ The last passenger had been a little too drunk and the smell still lingered in spite of several odor-neutralizing washes.

Dipper cleared his throat and took a long gulp of his coffee, feigning nonchalance. Gideon saw the slight tremble in his hand. “What do you mean she called you?”

Gideon snorted. Stupid question. Cornered perps tended to ask those. He pulled on to Main Street, the police station in sight. “Imagine my surprise this morning when my alarm wasn’t good ol Willie Nelson, but my sweet... your sister,” Gideon corrected, “calling me ranting about how you’ve been lying to her. Ought to be a real crime in itself. Ain’t heard such a commotion since Jo Jack tried to sell a hamburger to the manotaurs. Anyway,” Gideon continued, “She asked me to keep you out of trouble until she can put a few things in order and fly out to beat some sense in you.”

“WH-what!?” Dipper shouted between choked coughs. Gideon gave Dipper a queer look as he pulled into the sheriff's parking space around the backside of the station. Dipper was pale, a sheen on his skin, his cup dented. He had the look of a father told his child was shot.

Gideon turned the car off and turned to him, keeping a nice, neutral tone of a doctor calming a patient. “Pines, why is Mabel coming this upsetting? Is the Falls in that much trouble? Are we talking another L23 or W12?” _For the love of all things holy, not another Weirdmaggedon. Don’t think I or the town could handle a second round._

“No!” Dipper shouted. He put his head in his hand as if dizzy. “No, nothing like those,” he said a deep breath later. “Please,” he turned to Gideon earnestly, “Call her back and tell her we have this under control. It’s nothing bad yet, but there are signs it’s growing worse. The quakes, the displacements, altering gravity fields, they’re all growing stronger. I don’t want her here. Not when she has a family to take care of.”

“Whole town of families here, Pines,” Gideon replied, tone heavy as lead. “If it’s too dangerous for Mabel, it’s most certainly too dangerous for most o’ the folks here. If we need to start planning for evacuation, you tell me now.” Gravity Falls’ citizens had dealt with enough over the past two decades. Gideon wasn’t going to allow them more suffering.

Dipper’s jaw clenched, thinking. “Give me a few more days to be sure. You told the town we’re working together, fine. Let’s solve this. But you call Mabel and tell her to stay in Carolina.” There was no tremor in Dipper’s voice. Only a steely determination Gideon knew all too well.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” _But, what are you hiding that you need me to talk to her on your behalf?_ Gideon shook his head, “For now, you’re staying in the station where I can keep an eye on you. Keeping my word so your sister won’t turn her wrath on me when she’s done with you.” That didn’t seem to reassure the man in the slightest.

Trouble was, if Gravity Falls was experiencing an increase in turmoil, there was no better pair than Dipper and Mabel. Gideon and his team were good at their job. _But those twins, both sets,_ Gideon begrudgingly admitted, _have a supernatural knack for solving the more hazardous mysteries._ Gideon sighed and exited the car. _What a mess._

He walked to the back and grabbed the pastries before walking around and opening the door for Dipper. Dipper still looked enough like a panicked suspect Gideon thought he might try to make a run for it. Thankfully, Dipper decided to be mature rather than make Gideon drop the pastries chasing him.

Dipper straightened his jacket and held out his hands to the pastry boxes after hip bumping the car door closed. Gideon cautiously handed them over; sure this was a trap for helping his sister throw him under the bus. Instead, Dipper compliantly walked behind the sheriff to the backdoor. He didn’t look happy, but that was fine with Gideon. A quick punched in code and retina scan unlocked the staff only door and the two entered the building.

 

The police station, courthouse, and city hall shared the same large stone and brick building in the center of town. A perfect trifecta of bureaucracy. Saved valuable real estate and commute time, but parking could be a nightmare. Gravity Falls dealt with far less red tape than other towns, thanks to the mayor letting Gideon and his department run things with minimal intervention. It was the closest Gideon came to having the complete love and trust of a whole town since he was a child, and this time he’d earned it. No amulet or “Lil Gideon” antics.

The office smelled of fresh coffee, paperwork, and a hint of enthusiasm. At seven in the morning, most would expect a small town police station to be dead. Cemetery silent with a few unfortunate graveyard shifters guzzling coffee at their desks while first shift geared up for the day. They would be wrong, especially after a 2316 call.

“2316! 2316!” Three uniformed and five plainclothes officers chanted around one of their comrades. In the middle stood Wheatley swallowing a pineapple whole, leaves, skin, and all, like a malformed anaconda. Coincidentally, Wheatley didn’t know his mother. His father only had a love, and pictures, of Gravity Falls’ special brand of reptiles.

Gideon took a deep breath. Cooling the red from his face. “Dipper, be a pal and place the goods in the kitchen. It’s down the hall to the right.” Dipper slowly nodded and turned away, looked positively green. Gideon could sympathize.

A large officer walked over to the sheriff's side. He was huge, taller, and beefier than Gideon. His bright red crew cut and long, gray-flecked beard made his freakishly pale eyes more startling. “Ghost Eyes, what have I told you about this?” Gideon thumbed over at the chanting crowd, “T’aint right… or safe.” He’d been trying to stop the practice ever since taking over the department from Sheriff Darlen. He shuddered as Wheatley continued to inch the fruit further down his engorged throat. Spiny green leaves poked out from between his teeth.

“Sorry boss,” Ghost Eyes said, “But you know how the gang loves it.”

Yes, Gideon knew, and it boosted morale. But this was one of those traditions where Gideon wished Gravity Falls wasn’t so weird. That didn’t seem like it would be the case anytime soon as the crowd whooped and hollered.

With a dismissive hand wave, Gideon said, “Make sure an ambulance is on standby in case we have a repeat of last time.”

“Sir!” Ghost Eyes saluted.

Gideon smiled. There was a reason Ghost Eyes was his deputy and best friend.

“Oh, hey Dipper. Didn’t know you were here,” Ghost eyes said as Dipper returned from the kitchen. “Long time no see.” Ghost Eyes hammered Dipper’s back. “Was that Daily Dough’s?”

Dipper winced and nodded.

“Hey guys! Dipper brought Daily Doughs!” Ghost Eyes yelled at the crowd.

The gang’s whooping and hollering flipped from “Wheatley” to “Doughnuts.” Like a flock of squawking geese, they abandoned Wheatley and migrated to the kitchen.

Dipper threw the sheriff an incredulous look. Gideon chuckled fondly. “Better getcha some before they’re gone.” Dipper shrugged as if eating was the last thing he cared about, but walked to the kitchen anyway.

Meanwhile, Gideon turned to Wheatley. He grimaced as the night-shift officer pulled the dripping wet pineapple from his mouth and placed the large, prickly fruit on the counter with a sigh. Gideon clapped the pouting man on the shoulder. The pout transformed to a guilty ‘dog caught eating the couch’ smile. “Wheatley,” Gideon said in a hushed tone, “Grab a snack on the way out. Have a good sleep. Next three days, parking ticket duty. Consider it a friendly third warning to find a new act.” Wheatley’s pout returned but he nodded in compliance.

Gravity Falls was a small town with limited resources. In exchange for the large department Gideon commanded, officers often picked up extra municipal duties. It was a fair trade that provided cross-training opportunities and excellent busy work on slow days.

Gideon followed Wheatley to the kitchen to fight for some of the good coffee. Dipper was backed into a corner with Ghost Eyes talking about his family, Jamilah asking about his sister, and Tedanial talking about his latest tube tube video, all at once. Dipper sent him a pleading look. Gideon smiled. Held up his two hands full of coffee. Walked away. He wasn’t worried about Dipper running off now. The force talking his ear off, revelation about his sister, and his earlier request would keep him close.

 

Gideon began his station rounds, starting with Octavirel, the station’s Resident half-kraken, and half-hydra. They preferred not to think about their origins, and others not to ask. The only history even their closest friends could gather was that child protective services had rescued Octavirel before either of their parents could eat them. Their many limbs and heads had proven to be a fortuitous combination as the station’s switchboard operator.

“Great job with the lines this morning, Octavirel.” Gideon leaned over the barrier to hand the Hydken their breakfast. Octavirel’s workstation sat in a small oasis that even Wheatley wasn’t foolish enough to call a kiddy-pool, providing their sensitive skin with constant hydration. The electronics had been waterproofed through some of McGucket’s ingenuity, a hydrophobic spray coating that had been the prototype technology behind Dipper’s prized scarf.

“Thank you,” the third left head with the Mohawk of vivid purple and red scales said while two tentacles wrapped around the offered food and drink.

The second head, slender with two bright red stripes on its right jaw, said, “There were more reports of gravity and teleportation anomalies, but nothing big. I wrote them down for you like you asked.”

The head with curly blue hair snored quietly on the desk. A long, jagged scar peeked from underneath the wig. A product of Octavirel’s tumultuous early childhood. Gideon had ok’d the unusual choice of uniform violation when it became clear that head couldn’t bear to have others see the scar.

Gideon thanked Octavirel as he received the notes from overnight. Two heads nodded in response. The phone rang as Gideon walked away to continue his rounds. The town had taken a while to accept the supernatural as Residents of the town. Quite a lot more to allow them into positions of power, such as the police department and city council. But with so many supernatural Residents now, it had been an inevitable outcome.

Gideon hated to admit the transition mirrored racial tensions of earlier America, particularly with older citizens wary of the supernatural. He himself had to fight against prejudices. But at least the younger generations that grew up with unicorns, griffins and manataurs treated them well. Going so far as to dub them Residents in 2025. Nevertheless, talk about Residents outside of town was forbidden. The Residents and town weren’t ready or eager for the attention.

Gideon checked the assignment boards for each of his officers. Took Lucina off parking tickets and gave her Wheatley’s downtown patrol. She’d like that. Downtown was always her favorite and she deserved nice things after years of service. A quick check around the rest of the office confirmed that everything was in good condition. A tidy station was a well-functioning station.

On his way back to the kitchen, he stopped at the community whiteboard. He erased the previous quote: “It all begins and ends in your mind. What you give power to has power over you, if you allow it.” He wrote in its place: “Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or lose.” It was a habit he’d kept since his stint in jail as a ten year old. Little things help keep a clear perspective.

“Little Mary in art school yet?” Gideon heard Dipper ask as he walked into the kitchen.

Ghost Eyes laughed and waved his hand, “Don’t say that man, we haven’t saved enough for my little girl to make that leap. Nobody ever praises the starving parents.”

Gideon smiled to himself. Little did Ghost Eyes know, Gideon had started a secret donation pool for Mary disguised as party fund. Everyone else in the department knew the truth. But the deputy thought when they reached a respectable 5,000 dollars, the police would hold a big party. Ghost Eyes pitched in plenty of money wanting everyone to have a good time, making the impending reveal all the more anticipated and deserved. Mary was practically an honorary officer with how often she visited. It only seemed right her second family would help take care of her. Especially when the Second Chance program would have failed in days without Ghost Eyes’ caring and diligent work.

Years ago, Gideon had proposed something radical. Intern vetted inmates finishing their jail sentences. Make them enforce the laws they once broke. Give them a sense of ownership in their community again and repay their debt to society while reforming how they look at their place in it. After three years on the force, if they had passed all their counseling and training, they were free to find employment elsewhere. He had argued, if it could work for him, it could work for anyone. It had taken a lot of convincing for the mayor and city council. After agreeing to several conditions, including no applicants with violent felonies, sexual assaults, or child-related crimes, Gideon was allowed to implement his reform program.

Once agreed to a trial run, Gideon brought on new members as older officers retired. The town folks were weary at first of a hostile, mafia police takeover. But Gideon and his new officers proved their worth over time and earned the town’s trust and loyalty.

Gideon looked around the crowded kitchen and beamed with pride. All the Second Chance officers had long met their requirements. Only three chose to move on. The rest requested to stay under his and Ghost Eyes’ command.

The program had to stop accepting new applicants after five years, but sister programs had opened in the fire department and the post office that promised to be successful. Crime rates had plummeted too, with most of the crimes committed in the Falls now consisting of comparatively minor offenses. It was truly a golden age for Gravity Falls.

Gideon checked the clock. Almost seven. He clapped his hands for everyone’s attention. “Alright y'all, it’s about time to change the guard and start a new day. Those of you on first shift, finish up your snacks and head over to the conference room for morning meeting. The rest of you that have finished turnover, yes, you Chareel, off to bed. Your homes and families miss you.”

The crowd cheered and clapped for Gideon and each other at a job well done for the night. Some of the night-shifters would sneak in to morning meeting, but that was on them. No one could say Gideon was holding anyone against their will.

He caught Dipper’s eye in the middle of the crowd and gestured him over to his side. The man scowled but complied. “Alright Dipper, while we’re in meeting, I want you to take a hot shower and grab some shut eye in the bunk room. You look like the bull grabbed you by the horns. There are spare clothes in the closet by the showers. Something should fit you well enough.”

“Or, you could let me go back to the Shack where all my stuff is.”

Gideon chuckled and shook his head. “Run along now. I’ll check up on you in a half hour or so.” He turned back to the crowd and clapped again, “Alright y'all let’s move. Time’s a wastin!” Dipper stomped out of the kitchen looking madder than a wet hen.

 

The conference room walls were a pale blue gray that gave off a professional appearance while making the small, windowless room feel larger and more comfortable for those inside. A large smartboard occupied most of the left wall, flanked by two televisions on each side currently displaying the local news and an old football game. An oval glass table with holoprojector and twelve worn leather chairs claimed most of the floor space. Gideon picked up the remote control and clicked the tvs off; they helped make the long, slow nights go by but there was no place for distractions in the morning meeting. Twenty police officers filed into the office, first come first serve for the chairs.

The meeting this morning was on the quiet side. Usual routes and schedules. Upcoming trainings and who needed to catch up on what. Chore duty and administrative deadlines. Preliminary work, fundraising, and committee organization for April’s Police Parade started but that wasn’t as high priority right now.

Of primary concern to the officers was Dipper’s presence at the station. Though they’d asked in the kitchen, Dipper had been vague on the details. Likely the smartest thing he’d done in a while.

Zasul voiced what most were thinking. “Is this hovering and floating problem going to become another LK26?”

“Town’s gonna be a bigger headache to evacuate this time,” Clare mumbled.

Like Gideon, everyone in the department knew that Dipper, or the Pines family in general, investigating in the Falls meant trouble for the police. Gideon quieted the group down. “Yes, the problem has yet to be resolved. But neither Dipper nor I are too concerned yet. So far only small things have been reported as moving around town. However, we believe it may increase with time if we don’t figure out the cause and stop it. So, Dipper and I have teamed up to look into it. McGucket has been poking around as well and will likely provide R&D support.

I don’t believe there is a need to worry. Make sure you tell the same to any concerned citizens you meet today, but don’t disclose anything about the investigation. If the problem persists for a few more days, I’ll ask Mayor Tyler to give a press conference letting people know to stay calm and that the problem is being handled. We don’t want anyone spinning tires in the mud before then. Everybody clear about all that?” A round of nods and affirmations sounded around the room. Gideon nodded and opened the floor for anyone else to ask questions or make announcements.

Officer Swires raised his hand, grinning. “Sergeant Lucina is one day from retirement!” A chorus of excited murmuring and smiles spread around the table as Officer Lucina tried to make herself disappear in her chair.

“Has it been 20 years already? I remember you writing my dad a ticket when I was a kid! Congrats Officer Lucina, and stay safe today, ok?” Gideon beamed while the others congratulated the gray haired woman. “And with that, we of course have one last piece of business.”

Gideon stood and held a hand over his heart. The rest of the team rose and all turned towards the American flag next to the Gravity Falls flag. “To serve and protect!” They all said in unison. Afterwards, the meeting adjourned and everyone set about their work day.

 

Gideon walked towards his office. Checklist of the day’s duties running through his head. … _Quick patrol through Green and Teal district, maybe through arts too. Call McGucket, make sure he is working the case and how we can help…_ He stopped short as he passed the locker room.

The water was running, but he couldn't hear movement inside. _If that boy pulled the oldest trick in the book…_ Gideon pushed the door open. The locker room was a three-in-one, with bathrooms and showers further back. _Well, the sinks aren’t clogged and overflowing._ He half-expected such vandalism at this point. Gideon rounded the corner to the steam-shrouded showers.

“Heaven’s to Betsy, Dipper!” His voice reverberated around the tiled room, “When I said take a shower and a nap, I didn’t mean at the same time! You trying to drown yourself like a turkey in a rainstorm?” Gideon demanded as he grabbed a blue towel off a bench. He held it up to cover Dipper’s lower half.

“Hn No. No, what?” Dipper jerked awake halfway through a snore. He wiped water from his eyes, hand sliding back through soaked hair as he turned the water off. Wet feet slapped wet tile as Dipper walked over and grabbed the towel from Gideon.

“Tsk. Falling asleep and skipping flip flops. You know that’s how you get athlete’s foot, right?”

“Thanks mom,” Dipper muttered as he scrubbed himself dry.

“Be glad it was me and not your mom. Give her a heart attack seeing you like this. It’s no wonder your sister called me worried about you. When was the last you slept? Man doesn’t fall asleep on his feet after one rough night.” _Especially after downing enough caffeine to wake Mt. Rushmore!_

“Get off my case. I was meditating, not sleeping.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Gideon walked over and grabbed a clean white shirt, boxers, and jeans from the community cupboard. _Medium looks right._ He tossed them over the shower wall. “Make sure you find a proper bed this time.” He left Dipper and walked into the hallway.

Ghost Eyes was waiting. “Everything alright, sir?”

Gideon tsked, “Boy’s gonna be the death of himself. Probably try sneaking more coffee to stay awake, darn fool.” A sneaky idea struck him then. “If that’s the case, give him the good stuff Ghost Eyes. Dump the old pot and use Ms. Apples’ coffee.”

“Sir, you know that’s...”

“Yes, I know it’s hers. I’ll buy her a new pack if she wants. Just do it, thanks.” Ghost Eyes sighed but nodded and headed to the kitchen. The senior staff was aware of Dipper’s reckless habits. Dipper, however, did not know that Ms. Apples brought in her own decaf coffee. She liked the taste but her and caffeine didn’t play well. _Boy's not killing himself with sleep deprivation on my watch. no sir._

Gideon strolled over to his office. The little plaque with his name on the glass door next to sheriff still tingled through him like sunshine. He punched in the code on the keypad and held his thumb on the scanner. Only he and Ghost Eyes could access the sheriff’s office and the weapons locked inside.

Everyone referred to his office as “the fish tank.” The glass office protruded from the back left corner of the station where he could watch his staff and see anything coming. It wasn’t large or grandiose. A well-worn loveseat and several file cabinets took up most of the room. A glass holoprojector desk and ergonomic leather chair took up the rest. The backdoor led to the weapon’s vault and a private half bath. Being sheriff did have some perks.

He picked up a pile of mail on his desk and thumbed through it. Most of it was spam waiting to be pitched. _Cruise for three with purchase of a fourth ticket? Thought those scams stopped ages ago._

Two fast raps on the glass door. Dipper stood on the other side. He carried his dirty clothes and backpack with one arm, steaming mug in his other hand. The loaned pants fit him well enough but the medium shirt strained to cover Dipper’s broad chest and arms.

_Bet he can't ride the bull for seven seconds._ Gideon passed a collection of trophies on the file cabinets as he walked over and unlocked the bulletproof glass door. “Thought I told you to nap in the bunk room.” Gideon reprimanded as Dipper lumbered into his office, knowing the answer he’d receive.

Dipper did not disappoint as he held up his mug. “I have coffee. I’m fine.” He stifled a yawn and dumped his clothes and bag in a pile next to the loveseat. “Let's start this investigation so I can go home.”

Gideon grimaced at the mess on his tidy floor and the mess of a person in front of him. _Yeah, I don’t think so._ “No can do, friend. I have my duties to uphold; I’m sheriff first, detective second. You sleep while I’m gone. You’re no good to anyone half-dead on your feet as you are. When I come back in a few hours, we’ll start our collaboration.” Duty called and he wasn’t putting his life on hold to babysit his former arch-nemesis.

Dipper slammed his mug down on the desk, sloshing dark brown liquid over the top and across a stack of administrative paperwork. “Damnit Gideon, I don’t have time for this! I told you the problem is getting worse.”

“And I told you we’d get to it in a few hours.” Gideon crossed his arms, unfazed by Dipper’s outburst. “No need to act like we’re in defcon 4 when the worst that’s teleported are mugs across the room. And you’ve already got coffee all over my desk, so it’s not like it could do any more damage in here.”

“That’s in town,” Dipper answered through gritted teeth, “Have you forgotten Wendy and I teleported in the forest the other day? Who knows how many supernatural might have too.”

“Forest is Gnome jurisdiction and Shmebulock hasn’t raised any alarms yet.”

After the old gnome had his speech impediment curse cured, Gideon and Pacifica agreed he was the wisest of the gnomes. They deputized him to represent the supernatural on the police and city council. Gideon waved a dismissive hand at Dipper’s waiting retort. “Town’ll be fine until I come back.”

“What about Mabel? Have you called her yet?” Dipper asked as Gideon turned to leave, the matter closed in his mind. He hadn’t and they both knew it. But Dipper was more worried about her safety than Gideon. He turned and fixed Dipper with a stare, eyebrow raised. “Have you?” Gideon chuckled, “Who do you think she really wants to hear from? Besides, she’ll be fine when she arrives. I’ve seen her defuse a bomb with tweezers and glitter. She laughed and said, ‘worst case I die the way I lived, laughing and covered in glitter.” Gideon’s smile at the memory faded as he gestured to all of Dipper. “But if she sees you looking like a zombie, we’ll both be dead men. So lay down, shut up, and get some sleep. ”

“That’s not the point!” Dipper started pacing, his hand gripping damp hair.

Gideon turned to leave again. _He'll tucker out once the caffeine wears off._

To be honest, Gideon was atwitter to see his marshmallow again. Not in the romantic way. She was a married mother and he wasn’t a home-wrecker. No sir. But Mabel had changed his life, made him finally want to be a lovable and upstanding person. Aside from a small setback his senior year at Liberty High School in Dallas, he’d done his best to maintain that position. Any time spent around her reinforced his dedication. Dipper never approved. But, Mabel understood Gideon’s affection for her and it made being around her all the more delightful.

Dipper stopped as Gideon punched in the code on the door. “If you won’t call Mabel or work with me now, then let me go home. You’ve made sure I was safe and gave me warning enough to lay low until she arrives. But unless you charge me with something, you can’t hold me and my phone has enough juice left to alert the higher authorities.” Dipper squared his shoulders at Gideon as if they were about to throw down.

Gideon busted up. “Wuwhee,” he exclaimed between chortles, “You’re terrible at negotiations, son. You ain’t holding any cards!”

Dipper’s jaw tightened. Fists clenched as if he was prepared to fight his way out.

Gideon held up a finger. “Mabel asked me to keep a close eye on you. Not check-in.” He held up a second finger. “Ya won’t call any authorities because we both know you’re on three watch lists and it’d only cause us and the town a lot of headache. I know you ain’t that spiteful. Lastly,” Gideon held up three fingers and smiled like a judge handing down a well-deserved guilty verdict, “Law changed five years ago. I can hold you without charge for up to 48 hours. But if that’s not good enough for you, I can slap you with hacking the police database. I’ve been trying to be nice, but if you force my hand, Dipper Pines, we can make this ugly.”

Dipper stood all but snarling at the sheriff.

“Oh, speaking of ugly. Almost forgot.” Gideon pulled out his phone and held it up to Dipper. “Smile for Mabel.” Dipper snarled harder and held up a middle finger. “Classy.” Gideon pocketed the phone, planning to send it to Mabel later as proof of capture.

Dipper stood there fuming, but weighing his options. Gideon didn’t want the headache fighting Dipper legally would cause, but Dipper was shooting at his integrity as a sheriff. He sure as the sun would fight if needed.

“It’s not hacking if you keep the same password for years,” Dipper finally said. It was a desperately grasped straw.

Gideon laughed again.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d say that. You sure are stupid sometimes.” Dipper looked ready to fight Gideon again as the sheriff pulled up a hologram from his desk. “I change the real password weekly. The other is a trap, for exactly this purpose.”

Dipper glared with barely contained rage as he watched a video play on the hologram of files opening and closing on a desktop. Files Dipper had looked at the other night.

“You think you’re so smart. But that password alerts me to unauthorized access and lets me see what they’re doing.”

“You’ve been spying on me!?” Dipper’s voice cracked.

“No different than a security camera watching a break-in. Don’t you try to flip this on me.” Gideon shot back. “But no, I can only see you’re there and what you’re pulling up. Don’t look so scandalized.” Gideon didn’t much appreciate the judgmental looks Dipper threw at him when they both knew he’d long since learned his own lesson about spying.

He straightened to counter Dipper’s hostile stance. “Instead, tell me what’s so interesting about juvie records, birth certificates, and junior IDs? Matter of fact, what were you doing down by Honeysuckle Avenue before sun up? Seems Mabel had every right to think you weren’t telling her the whole truth.”

Dipper stood there stony and silent as a statue.

Gideon frowned and rolled his eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets for now. I’m heading out.” He was already thirty minutes behind schedule thanks to this hissing contest.

“You’re going to leave me here?” Dipper asked incredulously. “Unless you’d prefer a holding cell?" Gideon asked as he punched in the keycode. Dipper could be as ornery as he wanted. All the important things, documents, weapons, toilet paper, were locked. When Dipper said nothing, Gideon finished, “Alright then. Get cozy and don’t break anything. Or I’ll add property damage to the list of offenses I can charge you with, if you make it necessary.” Dipper looked fit to burst as the door closed behind Gideon.

_Not a great way to start the day. But boy oh boy was the look on his face satisfying!_ He hummed a tune as he sought out his deputy. After he cleared a few things with him, he could finally start his patrols.

 

Ghost Eyes wasn’t thrilled with the situation after Gideon explained it to him. “Feels a little… history heavy. Maybe you should check with your sponsor, what’s his name, Brian? Just to be sure, boss.”

Gideon chuckled, “Thanks for the concern Ghost Eyes, but this isn’t personal. Like I told Dipper. Once I’m back from patrol, and he’s slept, we’ll work together good as peanut butter and jelly. And it’s Brycen.”

“Just be careful, boss. Dipper’s a smart kid. And with you two’s history, this could go sideways fast and be totally unproductive.”

“I know. That’s why I’m picking up some peace offerings on my rounds. I want you to keep an eye on him until I return. With a little sleep and buttering up, he’ll be more cooperative instead of hissing at me like a rattler.”

“Hope you’re right, boss.” Gideon did too. Worst case, Dipper stayed pent up for a couple days, then he’d be his sister’s problem. In the meantime, if Dipper didn’t want to cooperate, Gideon would take care of his town without him.

 

Gideon finished his initial sweep around town by the time the Christian churches of Gravity Falls ended services. Three years ago, Gravity Falls religious organizations tenuously agreed to stagger their services to allow for maximum attendance. The church of Z'boracta, lesser known eldritch god of the twenty-fifth hour still struggled to bring in members however.

Gideon, in one of the pick-up trucks instead of his beloved cruiser, drove out to Honeysuckle Lane. He found Dipper’s precious bike where they left it. It truly was a beauty. A sporty mix of speed and comfort. The shifting frame allowed riders to sit upright for longer rides or bend low for speed. Powerful electric engine could do zero-to-sixty in two seconds, yet stayed quiet and sustainable, as all new vehicles required for the last five years.

Gideon hummed in disapproval as his finger drug a line in the dirt caking the bike. “You’re too good for him. You’d be so much happier with a few of your friends on my crew.”

The bike didn’t budge as Gideon tried to roll it over to the truck. “Gonna do this the hard way, huh?” Gideon walked back to the truck and pulled out two delivery drones. Designed for lifting anything from construction materials, retail goods, and partygoers that partied too hard. He locked them under both wheels, and they whirled to life.

The bike was still heavier than they could lift on their own, but with Gideon’s help, and a lot of grunting, he secured the bike in the truck bed. It was more work than he’d wanted to do for Dipper. But, if it made him more cooperative, and decreased questions from townsfolk, it was worth it. ‘ _Sides, can’t afford to buy any for the department, danged sure can’t afford to replace his._

After locking the truck bed, Gideon poked around the area. The forest was quiet. Nothing out of place. No indication of what would draw Dipper out this way at night. “Using it to come back into town? But why leave when he’s working on the mission here?” Gideon clicked his tongue, not liking this additional mystery one bit. Seeing no other clues, Gideon walked back to his truck.

He opened the door. The air turned heavy as if a storm was about to break. His adrenaline spiked. The hair on the back of his neck prickling in response to a charge in the air. Instead of reaching for his gun, he grabbed a heavy flashlight from the truck. A gun would be useless against one of the eight things that normally caused that reaction in the Falls. He clicked the flashlight on and looked around. Nothing immediately jumped out. He clicked on the black light. It wouldn't be visible in the daylight, but would illuminate ghosts and Western Lurkers.

Nothing. Gideon waited another minute by his truck. None of the classic eight were particularly threatening, but there were two known that came out at night that could be dangerous. With the town going topsy turvy, it wasn’t surprising some of the supernatural were out of sorts.

After climbing back into the truck and locking the door, he tapped a note on his computer. Two of his seasoned officers with proper gear would investigate later today. Dispatch would release a general alert of possible hostility in the area. The good folks of Gravity Falls were keen to listen to alerts and warnings, especially those old enough to remember darker times. The truck revved back to life, eliminating two possible culprits that wreaked havoc on electronics. With little else to do, Gideon drove towards The Mystery Shack.

 

Gravel crunched satisfyingly beneath the tires as Gideon pulled into The Mystery Shack parking lot. Five other cars waited for their owner’s return. Fine mist from a fog maker around back drifted through the tree spattered lawn, giving the tourist trap an extra mysterious vibe. Crisp, spring air full of fir trees filled his lungs as he exited the truck and walked towards The Mystery Cafe.

“Welcome to The Mystery Cafe, where your food has mysterious origins,” Tristan, lounging behind the pastry counter, said in a bored, distracted fashion that teens had mastered since the dawn of man.

“Ya’ll need to update that slogan ‘fore someone calls FDA or Health Inspection.”

Tristan’s eyebrows shot up with his head toward the voice. “Sheriff!” He pocketed his video game and straightened like a soldier, “What brings you here?”

“Settle down, son, I ain’t here for you.” Gideon chuckled. “Where’re your mom and dad? Need to have a word with them.”

“Um, they're doing tours right now. Anything I can help you with?”

Gideon smiled. _They raised one right so far. Always looking to help. The other two are… still young._ Gideon pulled out his wallet and looked over the goods in the display case. “You can send a message to your folks. Let them know I'm here, alright?” Tristan nodded slowly. “Good, do that for me and let me have… that… krispy treat there please.” All the foods were handmade in the kitchen and looked like they came from a Good Housekeeping Halloween edition. Mummy hot dog wraps, monster shaped cookies, platypus croissants, and more. It was gimmicky, but tourists ate it up in every sense of the phrase.

“That’ll be three dollars.”

“Price gouging hasn’t changed I see…” Gideon muttered under his breath as he handed over the cash to the boy with a glance at the faded No Refunds sign hanging from the register. Some things at the Shack would never die.

Tristan texted his parents after ringing up Gideon’s order and handing it to him. He proceeded to fidget around the cafe doing mindless busy work people did when they thought their boss was watching. Gideon watched as a row of shrunken heads made their way from the counter to a cabinet in the corner, then back again a minute later in almost the same order in which they’d been previously displayed.

Gideon couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched the boy’s nervous fidgeting while munching on his Frankenstein monster krispy treat, complete with crackling popping candy neck bolts. It was always interesting to see how people’s behavior changed in the presence of him and his badge. _Or he’s about to catch a scolding for slacking._ The Lil’ Gideon of old noted every mental and emotional lever; _a tug here, a pull there, a choice word or two and...No. That isn’t me anymore._ Gideon let out a sigh. _Ghost Eyes is right, I should talk to Brycen soon..._

About five minutes passed before a clamorous chattering bubbled up from within the Shack. A small group of six tourists accompanied Soos into the cafe, cameras still clicking and the audience enraptured by his stories. The tales were ridiculous but half the fun was believing them anyway. There was a clear difference between the modern Mr. Mystery and the Shack’s early years under Stanley Pines. Stanley had made deception and swindling his goal, always looking to wring an extra dollar or two out of every pocket. Soos, though, told his tall tales with the heart of a believer and entertainer, spinning exaggeration and whimsy into a tapestry of fun for everyone involved. It was a model Gideon commended and wished he’d used during his early days in the entertainment biz.

“And here you’ll see the town sheriff dining on our exquisite and spooky delicacies.” Soos gestured to Gideon.

Gideon played along and made a show of eating the rest of the krispy with a flourish, the popping candies dancing on his tongue as he spoke. “Mmm! I do declare this is the most hauntingly good treat I’ve ever had. I pity whoever doesn’t have a try.” The group chattered excitedly and mobbed poor Tristan at the counter. He’d have quite a few handprints to wipe off the glass, and a bout of sweeping would be in order for the inevitable crumbs.

Soos strolled over to Gideon with a hearty smile. “Hey, thanks for helping out Dude sir.”

“Always happy to help a citizen. How’d the tour go this time?”

Soos nodded, “Good as always. Though, it might be time to switch out some exhibits. The ol’ monkey mermaid doesn’t get them like it used to.” He shrugged as if helpless to understand the ways of this new world.

“Yeah, kids these days are so desensitized to the weird. Almost makes you wonder if we shouldn’t bring out some of the bigger guns, right? Just remember to keep it in code. Don’t need repeat of last summer.”

“Heh, yeah. But you have to admit it was fun for the first ten minutes.” Soos laughed. Gideon politely chuckled along, but no. It hadn’t been funny. Clean up had taken three days and a lot of damage control.

Muttering and astonished gasps interrupted Soos’ laughter. “Uh, dad…” Tristan’s nervous call had both sheriff and Mr. Mystery looking over to the crowd.

_Oh dear… That’s a little bigger than a mug._

The pastries and goods in the display case all hovered several inches off their racks and plates. In fact, the whole machine was a few millimeters off the ground. It looked very much like a classic ghost levitation. The Ramirez family didn’t employ ghosts at the Shack. It hadn’t ended well seven years ago. The IRS had not been keen on the idea of dead people drawing a living wage. He looked over to Soos.

The man’s befuddlement vanished a moment later as he adjusted his fez. “Welp, looks like ol’ Jimmy stopped by to help himself to our delicious treats. Everyone, please step back from the display for a moment. He’s kind of a messy eater. Heh, just like you used to be son!”

“Thanks dad,” Tristan muttered as he and the rest of the group took several steps away from the floating delectables. The group chuckled at Tristan’s embarrassment and took pictures of the floating food and plates.

Gideon watched the event, taking note of how the floating objects dropped in a line while other small objects began to float. _It’s like a gravity distortion bubble floating along picking up junk as it goes._ That in itself wouldn’t be too out of place here in the Falls, they had literal portal potties after all. But, they didn’t know what caused this, and the floating display case proved Dipper was right about the events growing stronger.

A pit of trepidation lodged itself in Gideon’s stomach. He couldn’t help but imagine these as bubbles at the bottom of the ocean, a warning of something bigger waiting in the dark depths.

The plates and counter objects dropped with a sudden crash and clatter. Several desserts spilled over their plates and onto the counter and the floor, wasted. Tristan sighed, shoulders slumped. _Yep. Definitely some sweeping in his future._

Gideon and Soos breathed in relief. No one had teleported.

“Looks like I’ll have to talk with ol’ Jimmy again about minding his manners!” Soos announced to the crowd's amusement. Tristan used some of his father’s charm to drum up higher sale prices on the treats now covered in “ectoplasm.” The tourists couldn’t throw their money at him fast enough.

_Idiots, all of them. Even without the Memory Gun scrambling people’s brains, these tourists eat up everything without question._ Made both his and Soos’ job easier though.

Soos’s turned to Gideon with a nervous chuckle. “Glad you were here for that, Dude sir. Might have gotten a little serious if someone had poofed out of here. Dipper said it was not a fun time.”

Gideon nodded, “My sentiments exactly.”

“Remind me to tell him the Unicorn Spell doesn’t seem to be helping. That’s like, the third time since we installed it something’s started floating.”

Gideon frowned, “Unicorn Spell? Thought that was for…”

Soos shrugged, “Dipper thought it might work against this too.”

“Evidently not.” His frown deepened, “Speaking of that twerp,” Gideon said, using the opening provided.

Soos stiffened. “I talked to him last night. Said something distracted him in the forest. Haven’t heard from him since. Did... did something happen?” he whispered, his expression that of someone waiting for the worst news.

 In Gideon’s relatively short career, he’d had the extreme displeasure of telling ten people the ultimate bad news. Thankfully this wasn’t one of them. He waved his hand. _Dipper’s friends are too good for him._ “Nah, he’s fine. I picked him up early this morning near the forest. Keeping him safe at the station for some shuteye. ”

Soos relaxed. “Oh good. I thought you were about to tell me he teleported again and you found his mangled corpse. Would not have wanted to explain that to Mabel… or anyone…”

“Actually, speaking of his sister too. There’s a little more to the story.” Gideon gave Soos a boiled down version of events. Mabel’s accusation of Dipper lying and requesting Gideon’s aid until she arrived. Dipper’s confession of the problems growing stronger, and how they’re working together to solve the problem before Mabel arrived.

After a second interruption for clarification on a story, Gideon asked the subdued man of mystery, “Have you noticed him acting weirder than normal, keeping anything from you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know what he’s keeping from me if he’s keeping it from me. But other than trying not to sleep, he seems like normal, obsessive Dipper. Heh, I remember when he forgot to do anything but research that last vampire incident. He looked like one himself after three days.” Soos chuckled again, ever the oblivious, jolly guy.

Gideon shook his head disapprovingly. _Pines needs some serious therapy and OCD meds or something._ “Well, let me know if you think of anything relevant to the case, or Dipper’s behavior. In the meantime, he’s staying at the station with me until Mabel arrives to collect him. So I came by to gather some of his things. Make the place cozy for him, ya know.”

 Soos rubbed his neck, “Uh, I don’t know, Dude sir. He'd probably be mad if we let you mess with his stuff. You sure you can’t leave him with us? We’ll take good care of him.”

“No doubt you would. But looking after a slippery eel like him would interfere with your business. I can keep him under lock and key no problem. Sides, it’s only for a day or two. Sounded like Mabel was hurrying over.”

“Well, I guess it won't be so bad. Besides, if Mabel’s coming, it’d be a good idea to freshen up the guest room before she arrives.” Soos leaned in and waved a hand in front of his nose, “Dipper has some stinky socks up there. Don’t think the dude's done laundry since he got here. Melody’s gonna throw every fruit in the basket at him if he spends another day walkin’ round the house in those same dirty clothes.” Gideon cringed internally, not doubting the claim but not needing to know about it either.

After being on the receiving end of Melody's unique brand of swearing once, he almost pitied Dipper. A child was reported missing at the Shack. He had never quite been able to reconcile a harmless apple with the various four and five letter words it clearly stood in for in her tirade when it became clear the boy in question had left with his mother, who the responding officer had never thought to contact. He’d had his own conversation with the officer privately and established a clear protocol to prevent future incidents.

“Anyway, if you’ll show me where he’s been staying, I’ll grab a few of his things and be on my way and out of your hair.” Soos hesitated, but seemed to remember he was talking to the sheriff and asked Tristan to hold down the fort. He led Gideon up to the second floor guest room, chattering the whole way.

Soos hovered around the door awkwardly as Gideon picked about the space. It was a lovely room, tastefully decorated with local goods. Bedding, furniture, and artwork. A classic Sasquatch painting hung over the bed. Heavy curtains kept the light out while sheer underneath allowed through filtered light. A faint smell of lilac was discernible under the heavy scent of coffee and the musk of dirty clothes on the floor. For the most part, the room was tidy. The bed quickly made. A small pile of clothes in a corner. Two full duffel bags sitting in front of the dresser as if Dipper hadn’t intended to stay long enough to bother unpacking.

What caught Gideon's eye the most was the bit of redecorating the room suffered. Furniture was thoughtlessly pushed aside, a painting lain against the window wall. The largest expanse of wall was covered in sticky notes, news printouts, pictures, and multiple colors of string connecting everything. _How cliché. Thought everyone used computers these days for this sort of work._

“Oh, I hope Dipper didn’t damage the walls. Mi Amore hates wall damage. Says it’s never the same after.”

Gideon inspected the walls. “Don’t worry, looks like it’s all wall-safe puddy. No thumbtacks. _Least he’s that considerate, if not enough to ask before redecorating._ He tapped the wall. “Mind if I take all this with me to the station to work on before your lovely wife sees the mess?”

Soos nodded after another moment of hesitation. Gideon liked that the Ramirez’s respected Dipper’s stuff, but it bothered him that they didn’t know about the beat boards. It definitely lent ever more credence to Mabel’s assertion of Dipper hiding something.

“I can handle this if you want to make sure your guests are well taken care of.” Gideon told Soos as he started taking pictures of the boards to replicate them back at the station. Soos nodded and left. Gideon pulled down the board pieces as if handling a crime scene and placed them in their respective piles.

The largest and most developed looking board was clearly regarding Gravity Falls’ current problem. The other two were indecipherable. They were in code and lacked timestamps and pictures. Something about them felt ominous. “Might be something to do with his interest in my police records.”

Gideon packed up the beat boards and grabbed one of the two duffel bags on the floor. He checked the bathroom for toiletries, stuffing them into a side pocket in the bag, then carried everything downstairs. He gave a short farewell to the family gathered in the kitchen. They gave him subdued goodbyes as he walked out the door and dumped his haul in the truck’s back seat.

_Alright. Morning rounds done. Dipper’s bike and research collected. Time to head back and wake Sleeping Beauty._

No sooner had he turned the truck on did his wrist watch ding and play the received message.

“Uh, sheriff,” said the timid head of Octavirel, “You’re needed down by Camp Helloak.”

The sheriff felt like he was back on Honeysuckle Lane with the building storm as he pulled out of the gravel parking lot.


	15. Centaur by the Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn what Gideon was called to investigate at the end of the last chapter and Dipper has even more added to his plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, everyone! Thank you for your patience, kudos, and comments!   
> Had some fun with this chapter and some of its messier details.   
> Warning, descriptions in this chapter may be too intense for some readers. Skip descriptions as needed.

Ordinarily, Dipper required a minimum of three alarms screeching in cacophonous disharmony to wake him from deep slumber. Thus, the faint beeping of a keypad and approaching steps did little to rouse him. A heavy sack dropping on him like a sucker punch to the gut, however, catapulted him to his feet from the couch. The bag thumped to the floor as dry eyes and hazy mind rendered the room’s other occupant a stranger. Breathing heavy, Dipper angled his body away to be a smaller target and stood ready.

“Boy, don’t you mess with me right now or I’ll have you in a padded cell so fast your boots’ll spin. N’ put the pen down ‘fore you get hurt!” Gideon’s unmistakable voice demanded. 

_ Right. Sheriff’s office,  _ he sluggishly thought. With a groan, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and dropped the pen he’d been holding while paging through the gnome report before passing out. A headache stirred in the back of his skull.  _ How long was I out? Why’s he yelling? When did my duffel get here? _

“Pull yourself together, Pines. We’re out in five. You’ll want a coat.”

“What’s the rush?” Dipper croaked, “I can hardly think straight after that rude awakening.” He scrubbed crusted drool from his chin.

“It’s about to get much worse. This mystery of yours just turned up a body.”

 

Heavy clouds from yesterday’s rains lingered low in the sky making the spring afternoon chilly. The citizens and Residents of the Falls reveled in the weather’s reprieve as they shopped, dined, and generally enjoyed life. Oblivious to the ominous news yet to come. 

Dipper slouched in the passenger seat of Gideon’s cruiser for the second time that day. His headache had grown from a nuisance to a raging migraine. Heavy scents of grilled meat from restaurants, flashing headlights and pulsing bass from passing cars cut through him worse than any knife. He groaned and clenched his eyes.  

“Problem Pines?” Gideon stopped at a crosswalk as a herd of pedestrians walked by. Few looked up from their phones to wave back to the sheriff.

“Yes. You’re dragging me away from my case to do police work. You realize photos of the scene or a coroner's report would have sufficed,” he grumbled. 

“Sorry, friend. Seeing the scene for yourself is the only way to make sure you don’t miss something.”

Dipper huffed. “Crime scene will be useless by the time we arrive if you keep waving to everyone.”  _ Seen politicians wave less _ , Dipper thought as the car strolled down Glenwood Road.

“Have some tact, Pines. Folks’re spooked already with you and the new threat. My job is to keep the peace, flying through town lights blazing won’t help anyone.” 

Dipper grumbled at the logic but was pacified some minutes later as they left the town proper behind and the sheriff put a little more weight onto the gas pedal. Natural forest scents were a welcome change for Dipper as trees overtook houses. Dreams of a short nap evaporated as Gideon turned onto Honeysuckle Lane.

Gideon snorted when Dipper stiffened. “Relax friend. I picked up your bike before grabbing your stuff at the Shack. Couldn’t impound it without drawing curious eyes, so I pulled a few wires. Once your sister gives the all clear, I’ll reconnect everything like new.” 

“Remind me to deck you later,” Dipper replied, half-dazed at the bombs Gideon dropped on him.  _ He saw my boards if he went in my room. Did he read them? Does he know about Bill? No. I coded everything and he wouldn’t be worried about a body in the woods.  _

“Where did you say the body was? What kind of condition?”  _ Did someone else find the Muslaf?  _ He by no means wanted to make that hike in his condition, but anything would be better than a second body.

“It’s better to hear the witness’ account first. But we’re going to Crystal Lake in Camp Helloak.” He had a bite to his tone, like one going to see an annoying relative. “Swear if I hear one knock on wood joke.”

Dipper’s mind raced through the possibilities and implications of the sparse bits of information Gideon had parceled out to him. Another bomb dropped as Gideon spoke again.

“Suppose I should mention since we’re here,” he said, looking somber, “Got the heebie-jeebies something fierce while picking up your bike. What was it you said you were doing down this way again?”

“I didn’t,” Dipper responded stiffly. “But, could’ve been anything from a Heebyjeeb having fun to a Whimpering Banshee or Category 7 ghost.” _ Or an amnesic triangle lurking… _

“Mmm. Thought so too. Put out an alert and scheduled Ghost Eyes to investigate. Sure hope it wasn’t one of the last two that got poor Krevor. Last thing we need to deal with on top of the teleporting problem.” Gideon gripped the steering wheel hard. His posture rigid.

A slew of profanities screamed through Dipper’s mind. The last thing he needed was cops combing the forest near Bill.  _ Probably wasn’t him. He’s supposed to be by Deerpine Falls.  _ He turned to look out his window, using the reflection in his glasses to watch out Gideon’s window for hints of yellow among the trees.  _ I’d take anything else over what’s really out here. _

 

Three miles later, the police cruiser pulled off Honeysuckle Lane, a simple wooden sign greeting them with a cheerful “Welcome!” The new winding, roughly paved road lead to a small park for RV hookup, and Gravity Falls summer camp, Helloak- A camp so friendly even the trees are glad you’re here! Some kids years ago found a real magic grimoire and ran to the woods to experiment. Due to a simple misspelling on the “Doolittle Special,” every tree for two square miles began chatting it up. And never stopped. Rather than mulching the annoying wood, it became the site of the new camp and yet another tourist trap. The Mystery Shack and Camp Helloak had a friendly rivalry. 

About a minute after passing under the camp sign, Gideon pulled into a modest parking lot. “You should know my morse code is rusty if we’re interrogating trees.” The small attempt at humor fell flat against Gideon’s deadpan expression.

“Get out of the car.”

 

Middle of March in Oregon, with it’s soggy, unpredictable weather, kept away all but the hardiest campers. Forest critters took full advantage of their absence. Initially, the talking tree spell had spooked the animals, leaving the forest abandoned for months. Now the mockingbirds delighted in the constant opportunities for mimicry. Deer never felt safer than with the trees shouting warnings of danger. Birds feasted like kings as the trees betrayed insects’ exact locations. Only the woodpeckers refused to return; nobody had been able to figure out how the trees had managed that feat.  

The camp employed five full-time rangers. With poaching a rare and generally suicidal endeavor in Gravity Falls, they focused on grounds-keeping, wildlife preservation, and maintenance that would prove impossible during the tourist season. Come April, seasonal rangers would be hired and the park cleaned up and prepped for the busy season.

Dipper himself had spent a summer in high school as a volunteer ranger at Crater Lake National Park to test the career path. He’d had a blast. Learned a lot and made several close friends. But the lack of wifi killed it for him.

“HELLO!”

“Hi!”

“Welcome to Camp Helloak! Though I’m a poplar so the name’s a little narrow.”

The trees closest to the sidewalk leading to the Ranger Lodge all started talking at once, shouting enthusiastic greetings, inquiring after the wellbeing of some of Gravity Falls’ most ancient sequoias deep in the forest, and in the case of one fir, offering grandmotherly advice on how best to prepare a sponge cake. Gideon tipped his sheriff hat down muttering, “Hate this place.” Dipper was inclined to agree this afternoon, but only because the cheerful trees split his migraine worse than an axe. The two did their best to ignore the chatter as they approached their destination.

Situated in a well-groomed clearing, the Ranger Lodge was an old NorthWest vacation home Pacifica donated after the old ranger cabin met an unfortunate end by falling tree. It doubled as the ranger station and a beautiful venue for weddings, parties, and small conventions. An observation tower loomed over the building from one corner of the clearing.

The lodge was three stories with spacious balconies and huge windows for maximum light and view of the park. River stone covered the first floor exterior while the upper floors were thick Sequoia trunks from before the endangered tree was outlawed from market. Stunning stained glass of the forest and animals surrounded the behemoth oak front door. 

Gideon knocked using the exquisitely-crafted, wrought-iron bear knocker to announce his entrance. The huge door opened easily as he walked in with a loud, “Sheriff here!”

“Finally! Welcome back, sheriff,” A three-foot rabbit wearing a green ranger shirt and gold nameplate reading “Daisy” said as she hopped up to them. Her chestnut fur looked extra soft and shiny, as if she took great pains to maintain it. Her turquoise nail polish however, needed to be reapplied. Bright, reflective eyes like moonlight on water were her most striking features and made apparent her supernatural origin.

Daisy was a Moon Rabbit, a species often wrongly believed to be anthropomorphised animals. While their lunar origins were still debated, and the Moon Rabbits themselves were less than forthcoming on the issue, most humans who have encountered them often agreed there was something otherworldly about them.

“Sorry for the holdup Mrs. Daisy.” Gideon tipped his hat. 

She shook her head, long ears drooping. “Krevor’s not going anywhere, but let’s hop to it. Hi, Dipper,” she said as an afterthought as she bounded out the front door, each slow bound taking her three feet up and over like an astronaut on the moon. Sheriff and Dipper hustled after her.

“Have you been briefed?” Daisy asked as the three loaded into a cross between a golf cart and ATV with ample seating and rugged four-wheel suspension. She took the altered driver’s seat. Gideon took shotgun. Dipper sat in back. 

“Sheriff said I needed to talk to the witnesses.”

“It’ll take forever to ask all the trees, so I’ll summarize.” She started the cart and turned down a path marked Crystal Lake. “Krevor was scheduled to check the trails and cottages through the camp on his shift yesterday. Note anything that would need our attention before the busy season,” Daisy explained as they drove down a meticulously manicured path through the woods.

“No, this is my patch of sunlight!”

“No, mine!”

“Will you two stop!? Plenty of light for both of you,” an old creaking elm grumbled at two ashes.

“He didn’t clock out at the end of his shift though. Not his first time, mind you, we’ve all forgotten before after a hard day. But when he didn’t show this morning, we started asking around. ‘Fraid he might have teleported or something. Portal potties alone have been cranky lately.” She pointed with her ear to several trees as she drove. “The trees confirmed he’d come this way earlier though. Not that their sense of time is great. But as we followed his route, the reports came back… alarming. Said something strange was in the area. They didn’t like it, but couldn’t provide details. Trees make terrible eye witnesses.   

“We finally found him… what’s left of him... a little over two hours ago by Crystal Lake.” She fell silent, pausing to rub at her face. Gideon comfortingly placed two fingers on her small shoulders. 

Dipper gulped.  _ Please don’t let this corpse have baby heads for eyes or missing teeth…  _ “I’m sorry for your loss. I take it you two were close?”

Daisy nodded, “We were the first two Residents to complete the ranger training.” Knowing the forest better than anyone, Resident park rangers had been an openly accepted occupation.  

“I see. Do you know if...”

“No need to interrogate anyone,” Gideon cut him off, “you’re here to confirm if this was a supernatural attack and what it might have been.”

“Tate’s the fish and game warden, he’d be...”

“He’s who I called first. But he’s regular critter and common Cryptids.

“Implying you think something nonnative?”

“Possibly.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it, and I know predators,” Daisy added with a heavy tone. “You’ve studied all manner of the supernatural, here and otherwise. As you said before, you’re the Supernatural expert. Time to put that claim to the test,” Gideon said.

“It’s around this bend,” Daisy whispered as the cart followed the curving path. “I hope you have a stronger heart and stomach than I do.” 

 

Smell is always the first to hit. It started as a cloying undertone, the subtle sour wrongness that says perhaps you shouldn’t drink this milk. Before long it was overpowering. Blooming and budding flowers added a noxious sweetness to the stench of death, like rotting meat sprayed with cheap perfume. Damp, chill air made it palpable. A hearty pork stew left to rot in the sun for days. Dipper took a deep breath in an attempt to acclimate and regretted it immediately. Gideon and Daisy threw him sympathetic looks as he coughed and gagged. 

The sheriff had thought ahead and already had a handkerchief over his mouth and nose, the faintest whiff of hazel and chestnut coming from it. Likely the man’s cologne. The mingling scents did not help Dipper. He swallowed thickly and hiked his coat over his face as they parked next to tree along the path. 

“Um, excuse me, those are my roots… could you not?” Everyone ignored the bald cypress.

Gideon and Dipper exited. Daisy remained in the driver’s seat, hands clenched to the wheel, ears flat.

The trail wrapped around Crystal Lake, so named from the countless formations in and around the water ranging in size from dimes to small trees. Unlike their size altering counterparts hidden in the forest, as far as anyone had documented, these were normal quartz varieties. Aside from the talking trees, this part of the scenic landscape was ordinary.   _ Well, it was. _

Spread over 500 feet of the trail, little flags stood vigil over upturned dirt and rocks, splintered and scoured trees, soil darked with congealed blood like gritty gravy, and scattered bits of clothes and viscera. Urine, blood, and fear tripled the stench’s power as they walked around the scene, burning Dipper’s eyes and churning his stomach. Loud buzzing overrode chipping birds as hungry insects raced to stake their claim of the feast. Crows, hawks and other winged scavengers waited impatiently for the humans to leave and claim the remains. 

“Any luck Tate?” Gideon asked through his handkerchief.

Looking around the sheriff, he saw McGucket’s son for the first time. Tate was hunched over a glistening red and purple mass. Gloved hands dug into the viscera with a squelch and pulled out a slick length of intestines to examine. 

Dipper threw up. 

_ This is why I didn’t join the FBI, _ he thought as he wiped his mouth. Despite his refusal to join three letter organizations since the incident in India, he’d still seen an unfortunate amount of death and never handled it gracefully. 

Tate was pointing out several blood spatters on various crystals by the time Dipper recovered and joined them. “Krevor put up a mighty fight, but ‘e didn’t ‘ave a chance. Tore ‘im up good. Found ‘nother ‘oof by that leaning crystal.” He pointed to a tall leaning Amethyst obelisk at the lake’s edge. 

“A hoof? Was this another Muslaf?” Dipper asked. It explained the obscene amount of blood no Moon Rabbit or human could spill.  _ An attack this close to people is worrisome but comparatively low on the priority scale. _

“Another Muslaf?” Gideon emphasized.

“Nah,” Tate answered, “Krevor was a Centaur, ‘member? Beat you at last year’s weightlifting comp didn’t ‘e, Sheriff?”

Dipper’s jaw dropped.

“Never get that rematch now,” he answered like a man robbed of glory. “More importantly, you still can’t identify what did… all this?” He gestured at the carnage.

Tate shook his head, “Could be one big bugger with secondary scavenging, or a pack of ‘unters. My bet’s on the latter. Not much in these woods I know of big or mean enough to take down someone like Krevor.” He thumbed over to the largest mass, “Found two or three kinds of bite marks on the bones. The carcass was also torn apart and bits dragged away like individual servings. Seems like normal predation for food too, rather than sport, given the amount missing.”

“Krevor deserved better.” Gideon took his hat off and stood silent for a moment before turning to Dipper, “Well, sound like any supernaturals you know?”

“I need more information. So far wolves or a bear attack with scavengers are as likely the culprit as anything supernatural.” Even in Gravity Falls, it’s best to rule out the ordinary before jumping to the extraordinary.

Tate shook his head, “Wolves don’t tear the carcass apart like this and the closest known pack is too small to take someone as big as Krevor down. Bear,” he waggled his hand, “… it’s a stretch, but possible. We’re still at the tail end of hibernating season, though; I suppose Krevor could have roused one by accident, but he’s... was...fast enough to get away from one.”

Dipper sighed surveying the scene again. “Alright. I’ll look around, but can’t promise I’ll have anything better than Tate’s analysis.” He automatically tapped his glasses to begin recording, forgetting he’d used the last of their charge talking with McGucket at the police station. “Either of you have a video recorder?” He shot a glare at Gideon. “Haven’t had a chance to charge my glasses.” Tate nodded and ran back to his truck. 

“Well, the good news is this doesn’t seem related to the floating and teleporting problem. Really ought to assign a name for it,” Gideon muttered.

“The bad news is it’s something extra to worry about.”  _ Cuz Bill wasn’t extra enough. _

The sheriff adjusted his hat a fraction of a degree. “Heavens to Betsy. Nothing’s ever simple.” 

Tate returned panting and handed Dipper an old camera. “Simple is boring and you wouldn’t be Gravity Falls sheriff if that’s what you wanted,” Dipper said as he fiddled with it. No advanced filters like his own he’d left at the station, much to his regret. Tate and Gideon continued to talk while, using all his skills gleaned from 46 seasons of Law & Law Again, Dipper started his investigation.

 

Of the fifteen bodies he’d seen the last twenty years, this one ranked about a six. The stench and dismemberment were unpleasant, but had a similar vibe to an animal attack. He’d rather investigate a hundred more like it if he never had to see another category ten; the cold, methodical torture and murder of a vampire by a supernatural hunter.

Two bodies he’d investigated held similarities to Krevor’s remains. One from a werewolf, the other from a flock of griffins.  _ And now that Muslaf from last night.  _ He flipped the older style camcorder back and forth between video and still pictures, trying to save as much data from the flies for further study. 

Uselessly holding his breath, shirt pulled over his mouth and nose, Dipper bent down and examined some of the tattered remains. Same as the Muslaf, the meat was torn and ripped off in harsh serrated edges. The ground was also too torn up to discern individual prints for identification. Scattered and raked soil marred the area with the most damage near the largest carcass pile. It was a wonder Krevor could be identified without pulling dental records.  _ At least the teeth are still there. _ Little else beyond shredded organs and ransacked bones remained. Not knowing which beliefs Krevor ascribed to, Dipper said a silent, generic prayer over the bony pile with two rib cages before continuing.

Bloodied twigs and branches littered the surrounding battlefield.  _ Maybe Krevor used a tree limb as a weapon? A weightlifting centaur likely had the strength for that.  _ Gentle lapping against wood drew his attention to a hefty piece of bleached driftwood half-way in the water two feet from the carcass. Deep red stained the wood where it stuck out from the water. Dipper snapped a picture.  _ Part of the weapon?  _ He grabbed a swab kit from Tate and pulled samples from several spots on the driftwood.  _ If we’re lucky, some of the blood belongs to the attacker, and red blood rules out some options. _

Dipper continued thinking as he made his way around the flags.  _ Nothing here shows signs of teleportation or other gravity disturbances. It’s possible something happened inside him and exploded outwards and scavengers took advantage. But nothing like that’s happened before. Even the incident with Aaron didn’t hurt him itself, just moved the barbell.  _

The deep scratches in the trees didn’t match a typical bear paw and ruled out immaterial beings. He held his hand against it for rough size comparison.

“OW! Oh my leaves! Stop poking my injury you rot hollowed husk!” screamed the maple.

“Sorry,” Dipper muttered and moved on, his head pounding from the shout. Leaves rustled menacingly behind him. A thought occurred to him and he walked back to the two maimed trees. Mindful of their wounds, he gently knocked a morse code message on the second maple. ‘Did any of you notice anything weird the last two suns?’

Gravity Falls botanist enthusiasts had been thrilled at the opportunity to finally get answers to various plant mysteries straight from the root, until they learned the awareness spell had skipped the addition of useful sensory tools like eyes and ears. After much trial and error, they realized they could teach the trees Morse code by tapping on their trunks.  

The maple’s leaves rustled as if shivering. “Something new in the forest.”

“Hard to understand,” another answered, the message passing between the trees.

“Weird accent. Maybe a Golden Larch or an Ube!”

“No no, it was clearly a Beech.” Several of the trees tittered.

Dipper left the trees to their gossip, a sinking feeling in his stomach. The evidence pointed to an animal attack of some sort.  _ But Bill’s the only new thing in the forest as far as I’ve seen. Plus, he’s proven he can speak any language, why not tree? Maybe he thought they’d know something about him? _

Next to a blood spattered quartz, Dipper found a trail of blood and broken bushes leading back into the woods. The trail was wide, likely made by a medium sized animal at high speed, but too old now to be useful.

A tingle ran up his spine, the hair on his neck standing on edge suddenly as he examined a nearby bush that had been reddened with more evidence of the struggle. He shot up, surveying the forest. Silent, pale greenery showed no signs of disturbance or abnormal color. He clenched the camera in his hand.  _ No, I told him to stay put. He has no reason to be here.  _ The sensation lingered despite his protests. He absently rubbed his cheek, the tingling a phantom of when Bill hovered by his face. 

Dipper shook his head. It wasn’t allowed to be Bill because Dipper would choose death over having to explain the situation to Gideon should the triangle popup and start chatting to him in front of the others. He started to wade into the forest, determined to confront Bill out of sight if necessary. 

“PINES!”

Dipper flinched hard enough to drop the camera. 

“You best not be thinking of sneaking off now,” Gideon yelled as he walked over towards Dipper.

“I’m not,” Dipper yelled back defensively. He grabbed the camera and hustled back to the sheriff. After shoving the blood sample bag at Gideon. he returned the camera to Tate. Daisy stood next to Tate, ears drooping again. “I’ve done what I can, but there isn’t enough evidence to rule supernatural or if this was a murder.” It stung his pride not to be more helpful. By that point however, he wanted to leave. Now.  _ I need another shower, Excedrin, and sleep before I can help anyone else today.  _

“Hard to determine what counts as murder or simple hunting with supernatural,” Tate mumbled. 

Wringing her hands, Daisy asked, “Should we close down the park until we know more? I certainly don’t want to be this thing’s next meal.”

“My guess is nocturnal hunter given the body’s stage two decomp. That’s at least twelve hours and,” Tate said.

“We don’t need anymore details than that,” Gideon hurriedly added, looking pale, handkerchief still firmly over his face. “Coroner said she’d be here in another half hour. You two fine to stay here until she’s finished?” Tate and Daisy nodded. “Good. Afterwards, night hunter or not, you and the other rangers take some time off to process and grieve. Hopefully we’ll know more in a few days.”

“Hopefully no one else is killed,” Daisy said.

Gideon nodded. “Lord willing, that too.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! If you like this story, please, help spread the word so others can see it by leaving a comment and/or kudos and sharing it with your friends.  
> Thank you and I'll see you again soon!


	16. Hurry Up and Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper spends some quality time with Gideon, wishing he wasn't as they work on the murder mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome all and happy holidays! Hope your weekend is wonderful whether you celebrate something specific or not! Thank you for your patience, kudos, and wonderful comments! Seeing the alert in my email always brought a smile to my face and kept me going, because honestly, didn't think I'd have this chapter ready in time. Been a busy month and this thing broke 7k words.   
> BUT HERE IT IS! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Please enjoy!  
> P.S. See if you can figure out my experiment I did in this chapter!  
> P.S.S. I polished the last chapter better. You can read it again if you want, but I don't think anything changed enough to require a reread to make sense of future content.

The station was somber as a mausoleum. Gone were the cheering and unholy food consumption of the morning, replaced with quiet whispers, quickly hushed conversations, and staff trying to look busy as Gideon and Dipper entered the main office.

“Just the man I needed,” Gideon said as Ghost Eyes hustled over to his side. “Round up the whole department and Mayor Tyler for a meeting at, let’s say,” he checked his watch, “five o'clock. That enough time?”

Ghost Eyes nodded solemnly. “This about the 10-67?”

“‘Fraid so. Dipper and I will put together the report and brief everyone before we release a statement.”

Dipper was not as keen on this plan. It lacked any mention of showers, migraine medicine, and coffee. Ghost Eyes saluted Gideon and started handing out orders as the sheriff and Dipper marched to his office.

The glass door clicked and sealed shut behind Dipper. Despite logically knowing he was in no danger, the confinement set him on edge. Gideon tapped a few buttons on his desk and the glass walls darkened into two-way mirrors. They could see out but the officers couldn’t see in. Dipper instinctively put his back towards the brick and mortar wall, keeping Gideon in full view, and mapping potential weapons and defensible areas. The small, sparsely decorated office left little to use.

“Seen cornered bulls less torqued than you,” Gideon commented as he sat down, his desk chair groaning under his weight.

“Can’t blame me. What’s with the privacy screen?” He jerked a thumb at the glass.

“Some of them are expert lip readers. Don’t want them leaking anything before we give official word. Now please, have a seat. Got a few questions.” He gestured at the blue couch under the one high window in the office. “Let’s start with that Muslaf you mentioned back at the lake.”

Dipper took his time sitting down, weighing his words. Gideon was an excellent cop and former conman, he’d know if Dipper was lying or omitting too much. At the same time, Dipper didn’t want to give Gideon anymore cause to snoop around near Bill. He shrugged. “Not much to say. Found a torn up Muslaf in the forest last night. Body today may have had similar predation signs. I’ll have to compare photos when my glasses are charged.”

Gideon tipped his head, “Threw a charger from your nightstand in the duffel,” he said before muttering to himself about talking with the local hippogriffs with a taste for deerlike prey.

Dipper tisked at the reminder of Gideon ransacking his room without a warrant as he leaned over and unzipped the largest duffel pocket. His mind screeched to a halt. A layer of papers and thread sat on top of his clothes and power cord. “What the fuck?” he whispered, choking on the words as if he’d been punched in the gut.

A sharp buzzing and sudden honky-tonk tune blared through the office as Gideon’s wrist watch lit up with a call. The sheriff answered in a chipper tone, “Oh hi Wendy! What can I do you for?” Gideon gave Dipper a hard look to keep quiet when the other perked up.

“Hey Gideon. Why’re the rangers giving me a hard no for survival training class tomorrow?” She asked, straight to the point. “They told me to call you for the details. The kids were really looking forward to this one.”

Gideon sighed as if he was having this conversation sooner than desired, “We’re putting the report together for tonight’s news. But, so you don’t go off hunting this thing yourself, Ms.Corduroy, I need you to know there’s something lurking in the forest now nasty enough to make a meal out of poor Krevor.”

Wendy gasped. “You’re joking. I’ve seen him wrestle Multibear into submission.”

“‘Fraid not. Keep those kids safe in the gym for now while Dipper and I are investigating. Should have it figured lickity split.”

“Right,” Wendy said, sounding as if she was already picking out an axe.

“Well have to get back--,”

“I kinda get why you two would team up while I was away,” she interrupted, the slightest hint of hurt, “But then Ol’ Ricky told me he saw you hauling his bike earlier. What’s up with that?”

Gideon shot another look at Dipper. The older sat torn between cooperation and shouting for help. _Wouldn’t be fair to her to open that can of worms._ “Just a bit of car trouble, Wendy. Nothing to worry about,” Dipper said.

“Uh-huh,” and Dipper could swear he heard her eyebrow raise in skepticism. “Well, call me first when you’re ready to hunt this thing, Gideon.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Dipper, keep in touch.”

The line closed.

Gideon sighed. “Wish she hadn’t turned down the Lead Ranger position. Would have been a fine team member.” He swiveled in his chair a moment, contemplating something on his holo-screen before leaning over to look at Dipper with a quizzical expression. “You gonna show me those Muslaf pictures or stare at your bag all day?”

“It’s going to take “all day” to reassemble this! What the hell Gideon?!” Dipper snapped.

“Language,” Gideon deadpanned, “And there's no need to get your knickers in a bunch. We’re working together now and it’s obvious you prefer paper. So, I took pictures and brought the work to you. Set it up again nice and quick.”

The fleeting relief of discovering a recovery doc after a computer crash shattered at the horror of Gideon having permanent records of his work. Gideon had cracked the The Author’s Journal when he was nine...Dipper’s encryptions would be a breeze. _Shit! A few hours of downtime and he could know everything about Bill!_

“Now, about that Muslaf,” Gideon continued, “Why am I just now hearing about it? Something that big needs to be reported pronto.”

“I was going to report it to the Game Warden until someone distracted me.” Dipper pushed aside his mounting dread and responded through gritted teeth.

Gideon pursed his lips but seemed to know when an argument wasn’t worth pursuing. “Suppose I’ll consider this your official report within 24 hours. Now, time’s a wastin. Show me what you have.”

Dipper yanked the charging cord from his bag and tossed it to the sheriff, “Plug it into your computer.” Gideon scrutinized the thin green cable but complied, against any number of security protocols or best practices for unsecured devices. Forcing himself from the couch and accepting temporary blindness, Dipper pulled his glasses from his face and connected them to the charger.

“Didn’t think to grab your contacts. Sorry.” Gideon muttered, scooting his chair out of the way as Dipper leaned comedically close to the holo-screen.

After entering several complicated passwords, intending to change them all afterwards, the document folders popped up on screen. Encrypted labels kept untrained onlookers from knowing each folders’ contents at a glance. A few more clicks brought dim, gruesome images on screen.

“Looks like a semi hit it,” Gideon said, a grimace firm on his face.

“Too far into the woods.” Dipper enlarged a picture and drew circles around the marks similar to those on Krevor’s body.

Gideon hummed and nodded as they compared the two grisly scenes. “Any leads as to the what?” he asked as Dipper copied the images to Gideon’s computer and safely ejected his glasses.

“It’s still possible the attacks were by mundane predators and the same scavenger’s contaminated both scenes.”

Gideon didn’t seemed convinced of the contrived coincidence. “Here’s hoping we don’t find any new bodies to help make that determination. Specially human. Don’t give me that,” Gideon retorted to Dipper’s instant scathing glare. “We both know it’d set the town off like gas on a fire, an’ I ain’t looking to bring out any riot gear.” He pinched his nose, “Gonna rile everyone up enough as is when I make the announcement tonight.”

A stinging sense of betrayal filled Dipper’s guts as he begrudgingly agreed with the sheriff. Human deaths brought extensive investigations, liabilities, paperwork. Residents were lucky to see any one of the three occur on a good day. Equality and fair representation were still a distant dream despite all the progress everyone had worked so hard to achieve. A potential investigation by external authorities posed a risk to the entire Falls, should any attention be drawn to the abundance of supernaturality in the town.

“They won’t be as bothered if you announce it as a mundane animal attack for the time being. However, you should investigate it as a murder, just in case there’s more happening here than we realize. They like and trust you, as much as I hate admitting it, and they’ll listen to you if you tell them everything is under control.”

Gideon pursed his lips. “Not a fan of secrets,” he said, tone heavily implying others in the room were, “But discretion will be best in this situation.”

“However you need to phrase it to help you sleep at night.” Dipper plugged his charger and glasses into the wall next to the couch. He instantly regretted his decision to sit back on the soft cushions as the migraine and exhaustion slammed back into him like two ten-foot waves. Gideon started typing on his digital keyboard, each tap a pebble thrown at his skull.

“...ast night about what time Dipper? Dipper?”

“Mmm, yeah. Um, maybe ten?” Dipper mumbled, assuming Gideon was asking about when he found the Muslaf. A short lag held in the air before the clacking resumed. Dipper leaned forward, placing his head in his hands and willing the migraine to settle down. Every other minute or so Gideon would break his concentration with another question or clarification about descriptions, witness accounts, comparison to a similar scene, suspect info and other nonsense.

_Why can’t he shut up? I’ve already told him everything he needs to know and he was there for the rest of it!_ A rapping at the glass door made him flinch.

 “Sugar. Time already? It’ll have to do,” Gideon muttered.

Dipper peeked up from his hand shield at Gideon as the sheriff tapped a few more buttons on his computer making a bright light appear on the wall. “You’re good to handle that then Dipper?”

“Do whahuh?” Dipper jerked to attention blinking hard at the blurry shapes in front of him before remembering he didn’t have on his glasses.

Gideon rubbed his nose and sighed. “You’re staying here to put those boards of yours back together. You just agreed to it. ‘Less you were sleep talking, in which case, take a nap while I handle the meeting.” Another knock on the door sounded around the room while Dipper looked at the screen on the wall. It was a projection of the pictures Gideon had taken of his boards.

An inkling of irritation over Gideon taking advantage of Dipper’s exhaustion tried to stir within him, but the logic of either divide and conquer or sleeping kept it at bay. He waved a dismissive hand at Gideon, though the sheriff had already joined a young lieutenant outside. _Fine, whatever. This is police work anyway._

 

Dipper reassembled the beat board concerning the Gravity Falls issue without much effort, matching each photo over its projected counterpart on the clear wall and substituting simple red and black marker lines for the complex string assemblies he’d used before. Without coffee or his Speed Drops, the simple task was welcomed in his overexerted and under-caffeinated state.

Stealing sticky notes and pens from Gideon’s desk, Dipper added the new information about the Muslaf and Krevor slightly off to the side like a new chapter in the book. Filling in the new information he’d learned from McGucket, he thought back to his earlier conversation with the old inventor.

 

His glasses’ battery icon blinking red during the brief conversation, Dipper lied to McGucket about where he’d found Bill’s blood-based battery for squirrels.

“Not keen on working on projects from… unverified sources. Where’d you say you found these schematics again?”

“My acquaintances from the Dark Net wanted to stay anonymous.” The internet was always the best excuse. Guilt gnawed at Dipper’s conscience as he realized he was not the first Pines to commit an unknowing McGucket to a Bill Cipher project. _Ford had the excuse of ignorance of Bill’s true nature...At least this time the design’s for our purpose and supposedly already in use in another dimension._ Somehow, that didn’t make him feel better and most certainly wouldn’t fly with McGucket.

The old man remained skeptical but agreed to run some tests before abruptly changing subjects to the mood rings and memory potion he’d lent the boys. “Likely useless duds. S’why I let them take ‘um. But did they work?” McGucket took notes with his beard as Dipper gave some dodgy responses.  

The old man’s expression turned gloomy as Dipper asked if McGucket had done any further research on memory recovery or retrieval. “Sorry Dipper. Stanford and I have been working on Alzheimer's and memory restoring options. Short of rebuilding and trying to reverse engineer that blasted memory gun, nothing’s been successful though. Not that that old coot would try anything we did make. But we’ll keep trying. Something’s bound to work. Just hope it’s in time.”

The line had cut as his glasses flat lined before Dipper could try to respond. Guilt and shame choked the voice out of his throat as he stood trembling, staring blankly at the call-disconnect screen. He’d asked about memory restoratives thinking of Bill, not his dying Grunkle Stan. Dipper passed out some time later after attempting to lose himself once again in research.

 

Dipper jammed the last new sticky note to the wall. Jaw tight and the lump back in his throat, he glared at his duffel with the notes about Johnson and Bill still tucked inside. _I’m letting that triangular fuck’s problems interfere with my real ones. Half the trouble I’m in now is his fault!_ The glass wall thumped as Dipper punted the bag at it. A handful of the little yellow squares spiraled down, landing on papers, strings, and clothes as they spilled from the overturned bag. He grabbed a few of the papers, crushing them, intent on their destruction. _No._ He stayed his hand. _That will only make Gideon more interested in them if he thinks you’re hiding them and he already has the pictures._

He sighed, shoulders slumping forward in defeat as he set about wearily smoothing out the wadded balls of paper that comprised his notes on Bill and replacing the fallen stickies. Alone with his thoughts in the insufferable, silent room, in an emptied police station until a bit of mahogany and brass on the file cabinet caught his attention.

 

“Confound it Dipper! DIPPER! FOR THE LOVE OF BABY JESUS!” Gideon hollered over the heavy metal thrasher music blasting from his faux antique radio. “You’ll break my poor radio before you break the glass if that was your escape plan!” Covering his ears, he walked through the office and turned off the radio, muttering about noise complaints and sound pollution.

“I was using that.”

“To go deaf?”

“To stay awake and finish this project,” Dipper said pulling himself up from the wall he’d been leaning against, trying to think and fighting off waves of exhaustion.  

Gideon ran a hand through his short white hair. “Heavens to Betsey.” He took a long-suffering sigh. “Look, it’s been a mighty long day for us both. Let’s do us both a favor and...is that my peanut brittle fudge bar?” Gideon jabbed a finger at the small pile of bars leaving crumbs on the couch arm. He charged over to his desk only to find the drawer picked open.

“It’s a cruel thing to remind someone via alarm they haven’t eaten since breakfast then leave them trapped in a room with no food.” Dipper said, picking up an open bar and taking another large bite of the crunchy treat. _Though it was a nice reminder to turn off my own kill-switch message about Bill._ _Would’ve been a shitstorm had it sent while I was trapped here._ Dipper shuddered at the thought.

Gideon stood by his invaded desk taking measured breaths for ten seconds before turning back to Dipper, a tightness to his tone. “The alarms are for me. But you’re right, I don’t think either of us has eaten in a while. I’ll order some pizza and we can go over those boards quick. Come ten P.M., I’m calling it a night and you should too. Seen roadkill possums looking livelier.”

After arguing about toppings and which of the three pizzerias in town to use, they returned their attention to the boards.

“Looks different than the pictures I took.” Gideon commented as he examined the single board taking up most of the wall.

“I added more information and reorganized accordingly.” Dipper responded while pacing, hoping the half-truth would be enough to hide the missing charts about Bill and Johnson.

“You’re missing an update,” Gideon said as he continued to peruse the board.

Dipper joined him, expression asking for clarification.

Gideon pointed to where the current day would fall on the timeline. “When I was at the Shack Cafe, saw the freezer move with my own eyes. Mr. Ramirez made the interesting comment about the unicorn shield clearly not working.” He threw Dipper his own quizzical look.

Dipper forced himself to shrug nonchalantly. He made a note on a sticky and placed it where Gideon’s finger had pointed. “At least the experiment proved the unicorn shield is ineffective against this new force.”

Gideon seemed to linger on an unspoken question until he tisked a tense second later. “Shame. Would have been nice to safeguard some places like the schools and hospital.”

Dipper nodded but offered no further advice or explanation.

 

True to his word, Dipper and Gideon inhaled their pizzas, two medium Supremes hold the olives, and worked until 10PM. By 10:05 PM, Gideon had shone Dipper were everything he’d need in the bathroom was located, locked him in the sheriff’s office alone and left for home. Dipper had a million arguments against this treatment and every fiber wanted to be outraged. Neither the arguments or rage stood a chance against exhaustion. Without caffeine or Speed Drops to ward it off any longer, Dipper brushed his teeth, grabbed his duffel for a pillow, and passed out on the couch. __  
  
  


“Pines, if you wear a hole in my floor, I’ll put a hole in your foot.” Gideon threatened, as he weaved around the other man to pick up the stack of Chinese containers. After 52 hours of confinement, Gideon’s once pristine office was a disaster of paperwork, unique Gravity Falls tomes, and discarded coffee cups. “Worse than a caged animal.”

Dipper barely registered the remark as he continued pacing back and forth in the small office. He chewed on a pen, mindlessly rereading the same paragraph in the gnome report for the third time. It was all meaningless to him. The words meant nothing as he checked the clock again. _Two days. I’ve been trapped here with Gideon and his stupid folkisms for two days but we’re no closer to figuring anything out._

While the board had as complete a timeline as possible, updated to the last hour’s incident at Marty’s clock shop, it did not point to an obvious pattern, cause, or solution. One positive was the lack of more casualties. The downside was no leads on what killed Krevor and citizens were becoming antsy given the station gossip.

More alarming than the lack of progress on the mission was the complete radio silence Dipper suffered. Every time Gideon gave him a minute alone, Dipper tried calling or texting Mabel and Xander. Despite Gideon allegedly sending his sister a picture of his captivity, Dipper’s many attempts to apologize for his deceit and request for a few more days left him screaming into the void of uncaring voicemails and unanswered texts.

He suspected Mabel had forbade her husband from talking with him, rather than his best friend willingly forsaking him. _Course, he could also be as pissed at me as Mabel. He’s even less acclimated to my bad habits than she is.  
_

Mabel’s protective attempts were equal parts appreciated and insulting. _She probably felt the same when you background checked all her boyfriends and followed her to India. At least I’d been subtle though!_

Mabel unfortunately, didn’t know the meaning of the word. Instead of background checks, Mabel insisted on meeting anyone Dipper took a fancy to and performed the interrogation equivalent of a dad with a shotgun, as if she didn’t think he could find a nice partner on his own. Her latest interference came from his mistake of confiding in her about his cheating boyfriend. Dipper returned home from work to find her packing his things and forcing him to move in with her, Xander and the kids. “Better than moving back in with the parents at 32,” she’d said without giving him a chance of refusing. She even forced his cheating ex to write a nice apology letter on pain of hospitalization.

_And now this._ He threw a scathing glare at Gideon’s back. _It’s been days since we last talked though. If she’d been making plans since then, she should have been here by now. What’s keeping her? Did something happen? Is she in trouble? Could have been something I did? I have to get out of here so I can find out!_

“PINES!” A heavy hand clamped on Dipper’s shoulder. The sudden shout and contact jarred Dipper hard enough to bite down on the pen. Blue ink ruptured like a startled octopus, staining Dipper’s face and coating his mouth in the vile tasting ooze.

“Sweet Sassafras! Are you serious? That’s a third pen you owe me! Here.” Gideon shoved a half cup of old joe into Dipper’s hands.

Dipper swished, gargled, and spat the stale coffee in the bathroom sink. He returned in time to see Gideon leave the office and walk off with officer Ludimine. “Better not be a repeat of yesterday,” Dipper grumbled. He grabbed the Gnome book and a new pen.

Citing sheriffly duties, Gideon had trapped Dipper alone in his office most of Monday. Too bad for Gideon if that was his plan today. The time alone had given him ample opportunity to crack the door code and replicate his fingerprint. Dipper would be leaving today with or without the sheriff’s permission.

“He has an hour to come back or I check out.” In the meantime, he sent another text to Mabel and Xander. A heavy scowl darkened his expression. “Can’t even give me the courtesy of a ‘seen tag’ to let me know you’re okay.” However many harsh words Mabel had for him, he had just as many prepared to fire back when she arrived.

Rather than waste precious time fuming at his sister and best friend, he ensured the two-way mirror was still active and pulled his Bill and Johnson notes from the duffel. The few hours he had managed to sleep, he’d used the bag as a body pillow to prevent Gideon from finding the secret notes. Holding each note up to the board where they belonged, Dipper continued his process of taking individual pictures. The plan was to splice them together when he returned to the shack. _Hopefully this will help me find whatever pattern I’ve been missing._

As he worked, his worry about of Bill being Krevor’s murderer and the cause behind the gravity problems came back. “The little evidence we have doesn’t fit well with Bill. Not flashy or bizarre enough, at least not for old Bill. But it’s too gruesome for other creatures I know capable of killing someone like Krevor. Plus, Bill’s the only new creature that the trees could have meant. Right?” Between Ford’s research in the 80’s and the research done in the last twenty years, Gravity Falls had a solid handle on their myriad supernatural.

“I just need a motive. Unless that Muslaf was his first victim, or the first I’ve found, he hasn’t hurt anyone. So why start killing now?” He had developed several explanations during his captivity. None of which sat well with him.

Option one. Bill had left the pond in search of squirrels as they’d agreed upon and Krevor saw him. Maybe Krevor attacked and Bill defended, or Bill killed the witness because Dipper swore people would panic if he was discovered. Both scenarios were disturbing, especially with Ghost Eyes snooping around the forest.

Option two. The memory potion worked and old Bill was back. But the town wasn’t raving mad or ash yet, making the option unlikely. “Unless he doesn’t have enough power now to devastate everything like in Weirdmageddon.” He didn't think Bill had been faking the amnesia either. He was a master of the long game and Dipper couldn’t think of any benefit Bill had gained to blow his cover yet.

The third option of Bill accidentally summoning a creature from another dimension seemed unlikely given what he’d seen of the triangle’s abilities. He still shivered at the thought of having to run from various Weirdmageddon monstrosities again.

The last option was the most Bill. There was no motivation because he was an insane interdimensional chaos god and didn’t need one. The first two options made Dipper’s conscience cringe because they were only possible because of Dipper’s attempts to help Bill.

 

Gideon and Ghost Eyes came into view scant minutes later. Dipper shoved his secret work back in the duffel as the sheriff and his deputy walked through the door. Gideon eyed the bag contemptuously as Dipper zipped it closed. Rather than rehash an earlier argument about the missing papers, Gideon clapped his hands together. “Change in plans, Pines. I’m having over some uninvited guests soon and I need to make room for their big noses.”

“What are you talking about?” Dipper asked. Ghost Eyes started tidying up books and papers.

“Government’s apparently picked up noise from this new anomaly.”

Dipper groaned.

“Least they gave us warning this time,” Ghost Eyes remarked as he shoved books in a bag.

“‘N they’ll get a little extra courtesy for their efforts this time,” Gideon said. He took a few pictures of the beat board before starting to tear it down. “Don’t just stand there like a fried fish, help clean this mess up. Afterwards, you’re to go straight to the Shack and hide until I give you the all clear. Last thing we need is some official badge finding you in the Falls. Never ending headache.”

“Besides, we can’t legally hold you here any longer without charging you for something,” said Ghost Eyes who moved on to packing papers into bags.

“You’re both so kind,” Dipper muttered as he helped back the beat board.

Within ten minutes, Gideon’s office was back to its former tidy glory. All traces of supernatural erased to look like a boring old sheriff’s office.

“Alright, Ghost Eyes, you and Dipper load up the truck. Dipper, I don’t have time to reconnect you bike. Officer Terri will give you a ride back to the Shack along with your bike and all that work. Once the brass is gone, we can resume our investigation.”

“I’d rather walk. Been a little cooped up.”

“Go for a walk later.” And that was that.

 

Dipper slouched in the passenger seat of the cramped two-door police truck. Because of the rain, only his bike was in the unprotected bed of the truck. His duffle bag, backpack, and four boxes of paper and books left little room in the small cabin for the two occupants. _At least it’s a short drive._ Dipper watched townhouses and apartments pass through the rain-streaked window.

_What do I do once I arrive at the Shack though?_ He needed to meet with Bill, to find out the truth of his involvement with Krevor’s murder. But once he returned to the Shack, five or more pairs of eyes would watch his every move as Gideon made it clear he had told the Rameriezes the situation. Dipper closed his eyes and sighed.

“Don’t worry. I’m sssssure you’ll figure thissss whole messssss out sssssooon!” Terri said enthusiastically, his snake heritage coming through in a serpentine lisp.

_Not soon enough to prevent the FEDs from snooping around here again and forcing all the Residents to hide._ The arrangement left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he knew he wasn’t alone.

More troubling than his lack of answers about the FEDS, was the situation with Bill. Even if he managed to escape the Shack and talk to Bill, then what? If he had become dangerous again, Dipper had no way to stop him. The only weapon to ever hurt Bill was long lost, possibly destroyed to keep anyone else from using it. Stanford had never been clear about its fate.

_If I can’t destroy him, could he be contained?_ Forcing him to shack Johnson’s hand would probably solve two problems at once but that’d be easier said than done. _Would a reverse polarity unicorn spell work in his weakened state?_ If so, he could leave Bill trapped for eternity and none would be the wiser.

Terri pulled to stop at the last traffic light in the town proper. Same as Gideon, he waved to the umbrella-wielding pedestrians. The truck started to vibrate, pulling Dipper from his plans and schemes.

“What the hey?” Terri turned off the radio, looking around the truck.

The vibrations intensified, shaking the whole truck. _Shit, don’t tell me we’re about to teleport!_ Dipper looked out the window. The houses quaked as well. A swing swayed on one porch. Potted plants rattled off another’s steps, smashing on the ground. People screamed and ran for cover.

RRRRRRRRRR BOOOOOM KSSSSSSSSSSSS KSSSSSSSSSSSS

The rumbling from the earthquake paled compared to the explosion in town. Terri and Dipper twisted in their seats. A giant geyser, followed by two smaller ones, spouted somewhere in town, visible over the houses.

“Holy shit,” Dipper whispered.

People pointed at the spouting water. Others continued seeking shelter even as the earthquake settled.

“All units, we have reports of 10-80s and what seemed like a strong quake. Requesting all personnel sweep town for injuries, damages, and dangers. Do you copy?” Octavirel said in a chorus with all three heads.

“Sorry Dipper, looks like you’ll need to walk the rest of the way. Can’t bring civies into police work.”

Dipper was about to protest when a thought occurred. _I’m not too far._ He grabbed his backpack and hopped out of the truck. The moment he slammed the door, Terri flicked on the police lights and tore back down the street towards the gushing water.

Half a dozen people ran up to him, hounding him with questions about what just happened. He told them the little he knew and asked them to check on all their neighbors. They didn’t question his authority or commands. As they ran off to obey, Dipper booked it out of town. He wasn’t running to the Shack however. Given the lack of damage to the townhouses, he knew the Rameriezes would be fine in the Shack. After the last fire destroyed most of it in ‘22, it had been specially rebuilt to be practically indestructible.

No, Dipper took his opportunity and ran down Honeysuckle Lane to have an overdue chat.

 

“‘Hmmmmmm, do I need to floss these teeth of mine more often’ said Bill… to himself because I’m still ALONE! HEllo!?” Bill wildly flailed his arms and legs in the air as he float over the lake. “Can anyone hear me? Triangle lost in the forest without his trusty partner who was supposed to be helping me!” Bill shouted in an electric guitar riff around the lake. He humphed and dropped down to a few inches above the water’s surface.

He looked down at his reflection, “Bet you’re having better luck than me,” he told his equally scowling reflection. “That’s it, he has until that boring medium star of this miserable planet visually dips below the visible horizon. If he’s not back here by then, I’ll take matters in my own hands,” he smacked his fist together. “I’ll go out and talk to whoever I want and phooey on their feelings” He literally deflated a tenth of a percent, “or at least insist on some form of long distance communications. Hmmm, are beepers still a thing?” He tilted forward, hand under his eye like it was his chin. He tipped in a circle straight through the water, unphased by the change in every possible sense.

Bill fired out of the water like bullet, hanging high in the air. His hand lifted over his eye as if to see further. It don’t help really, his eye could see sooooooooo much further than anything else’s eyes. No he could see the Xdjat-Jeuc of dimension 29745-cs were having their annual parade, and heffalumps and woozles terrorizing stuffed animals in Dimension 432.

No, he could see just fine. It was a sound he heard. A familiar sound. An amazingly complex but in a boring way system of moving molecules that stuck together and coalesced into a cacophony of biomechanisms all so similar to any other of their species but always unique in one mechanism or other. The universal equivalent to finger-printing.

“Well it’s about damn time!” Bill clamped his little noodle hands on his sides. He hovered there for roughly five minutes, glaring at the entrance to the lake where Dipper would come stomping through. Honestly, he so loud. Then he huffed. “UGH,” his arms dropped and he bent over backwards, “he’s going to take .000000000000000000000000000000000000001% percent of eternity to get here!”

“No Bill, you have to be patient. You remember what he said about staying put.”

“But he’s coming here. That means he wouldn’t have anyone with him!”

“I suppose. Ok! You’ve convinced me!”

Bill shook hands with his reflection in the water, the reflection gave him a thumbs up.

“OH! Almost forgot. How careless of me.” He swooped over to the lakeside, grabbed his binder and the scarf before he rocketed full speed ahead to find that luggable lug so he could tell him all about the amazing successes he’d had during his long wait!

He scooted to a halt with a screeching tires sound mere seconds later. Off to the side, Dipper dragged his bike into the woods. Or had he run here on foot? Bill shrugged, it was hard to tell the difference between similar looking realities. Whichever version he was in, he flew over to him like a kite in a strong breeze.

“Well, well, well! Look who FINALLY  whoa HEY!” Bill shouted, blowing clear of Dipper’s shout and wildly swung backpack.

“Fucking Christ, Bill! Don’t, Jesus.” Dipper panted, bending over and squeezing his chest.

Sheesh, melodraMATIC MUCH?! Being said hello to was not terrifying enough to lose mild control of your organs. Bill rolled his eye. Dipper was staring at Bill, eyes wide, breath paused, heart thumping twice the healthy limit. Sheesh meatsacks are weird. Bill crossed his arms over the binder, foot tapping impatiently. “Took You. Long. Enough.” He glared down at Dipper. “What happened to ‘See you tomorrow’?” Bill demanded with air quotes, the binder floating next to him, as he quoted in Dipper’s voice. “That was two Gqarken lifetimes!”

“I was detained, Mr. Impatient.” Dipper frowned and slammed his helmet onto the bike handlebars or was that the other dimension again and this version slammed his hands on his hips. _Other version’s more interesting._

More importantly. _Impatient?_ Was that really something about him or was this another endearing human tradition of giving false information? Let’s error on the side of optimism! “I am? Or, I was?” Bill literally brightened. He darted forward to within inches of Dipper’s face, previous ire evaporating like dew before the sun.

Dipper recoiled, “I ah, maybe. I don’t know. What are you doing here though? You’re supposed to be up by the lake.”

“I could hear you.” Bill examined his nails as if that wasn’t a big deal, cuz it wasn’t. “You take soooooooooooooooooooooooooo,” his hat tilted around as if to indicate all of time. “OOOO long to move from this point A,” he point to their spot, “Toooooooooooooooo,” his arm stretched all the way to the lake, “Point B. I thought I’d save us both some time.”

Dipper started. “Wait, you heard me from the lake? How long did it take for you to make that distance?”

“‘Heard’ is an okay word for it,” Bill rolled his hand, “But it only took me one-one trillionth of this star’s lifespan to get here.” More importantly, “Bring me more of that potion stuff? That’s why you took so long, right? Why you were ‘detained’?” Bill swiveled and swirled around Dipper like a leaf confused about the application of gravity to its form to make it fall properly.

“About that potion,” Dipper said, his voice full of quivering vibrations, “Have you noticed anything strange since taking it?” Kid looked like he was about to suffer one of those fatal to mortal aneurysms.

Bill drifted leisurely on his back, “Hmmmm… Not sure if it counts, but did you know this silly country had an eighth and a half president? Something about money…. And pants?

“That… um, no. I meant, have you felt different? Maybe acting differently. Time lapses perhaps?”

Bill flipped to front, laying like a stereotypical girl reading a scandalous magazine, “NOPE! Too busy collecting squirrels, like we agreed.” He frowned, “Need to find a better way to contain them. Won’t stay still even if I ask nicely!” The nerve. Maybe a good reality marble? Those were always a fan favorite.

“The squirrels, yes. Um. While collecting them, did you see anyone? Did anyone see you…?”

What is this buffoon talking about? Bill was amnesic, not stupid. If others seeing him was bad for business, then he’d make sure he wasn’t seen. Simple as that. “Why would I let someone see me?”

“I know you wouldn’t but accidents can happen.” Dipper shrugged, but it was stiff, like he’d forgotten how to properly move his musculoskeletal system.

“Has someone said they’ve seen me?” They’re liars if they have! I feel so violated! Like stepping out of the shower and there’s all sorts of paparazzi taking pictures of you. Terrible. Bill’s color deepened from his cheery lemon yellow to an indignant carrot orange.

“No, just. Something happened and I wanted to make sure…” Dipper trailed off like a cowboy into the sunset.

“What? What happened? The suspense is killing me!” Bill dramatically pretended to faint.  Well, what was Dipper specifically talking about cuz LOTS of stuff happened ALL THE TIME.

Dipper sighed the kind of sighs people tend to make when they’ve lost all their game pieces but were tired of the game anyway. “Someone was brutally murdered by a lake the other day.”

“Oh, HAHA! I thought you meant the liquid KABOOM earlier. What a geyser that was. HAHA!” Bill wiped a tear from his eye. “But no, seriously, what does a brutal murder have to do with me and what I’ve been doing or feeling the... past...days...” The binder and scarf dropped to the ground as the connections slammed together like two speeding trains. The odd questions, Dipper’s hesitancy, and cloud of fear pheromones surrounding him. The way he tensed as Bill’s color drained to pure white.

“You wanted to make sure I didn’t do it?” Dipper’s explosion of chemicals and subtle physiological changes confirmed Bill’s suspicion. _Is that why he was gone so long? He thought I’d done something bad?_ Bill erupted into a raging red, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? YOU LEAVE ME ALONE FOR DAYS AFTER PROMISING TO BE RIGHT BACK WITH A POTION TO HELP ME. THEN YOU RETURN EMPTY HANDED AND HEADED TO ACCUSE ME OF MURDER!? I need help fixing whatever broke my noodle and killing is a terrible tactic to accomplish that!

 “No. I’ve just been collecting your stupid squirrels. Haven’t hurt anything... Unless you count converting molecules from one type to another, but EVERYTHING DOES THAT!” Bill wildly and emphatically gestured during his rant. Dipper stuttered and tried to interrupt but Bill was on a roll. “And ANOTHER thing! What sort of stupid you gotta be to come into the forest alone and accuse a suspected murderer of murder to his eye!? How were they murdered? Cuz I can tell you how I’d have done it if ...I ...was...,” his color drained again to pale yellow, his size shrinking along with his demeanor. “Why would you think I brutally murdered someone?”

_I don’t understand! We were making such progress, I was doing so well, he seemed fine, and everything was ok a few days ago. Why would he think…_

A second set of trains collided with massive casualties. “You think I did it cuz I used to be a murderer?” Dipper gaped at him like a dying fish. _That doesn’t make sense! Fleshies don’t normally associate with those who kill them. So, why would he agree to help me and say we were partners before?_ _What if he was the murderer and he blamed me and tried to shut me up by stoning me cuz I caught him?_ But that still doesn’t make sense. This doesn’t make sense!

“Bill, I… I didn't mean,” Dipper stumbled over his words as Bill clawed at his top angle, looking very much like a person having a panic attack.

He looked back at Dipper, a desperation in his eye. Hear him out. He can explain this. Make this make sense! _I’m not a murderer. I didn’t used to be! That can’t be what he meant._ The pot of whirling thoughts was placed on a back burner when an iridescent in gamma waves bubble of warped physics manifested close to them. It drifted like a soap bubble on the breeze, headed straight for them.

_It’s one of those again. Sure are a lot of them lately. Uhoh!_ “Look out!” Bill shouted like an elevator plummeting down the shaft. He shoved Dipper out of the bubble’s path. _Show him who’s a murderer and who isn’t. Fleshies don’t handle teleportation well after all. Wait, NOnonono!_

The bubble’s meandering path zigged when Bill thought it would zag. His attempt to save Dipper instead pushed him into the tail end of the bubble. Bill didn’t have time to react. Dipper didn’t have time to shout as the human collapsed in on himself and vanished. The bubble popped a moment after. Bill was alone in the forest again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwuahahah! What'd you think of all that?! Worth the kinda slow chapter?  
> Thank you again for reading! If you like this story, please, help spread the word so others can see it by leaving a comment and/or kudos and sharing it with your friends.  
> Thank you and I'll see you again soon!


	17. All Bark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teleportation lands Dipper in another heap of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience as I tidied up this chapter. I hope you find the wait worthwhile.

“Thank whatever gods don’t hate me,” Dipper said between heavy breaths. Despite the chill, his sweat-soaked clothes clung to him like loose skin. Every muscle burned and he’d be sore for a week after today. Relief however, put pep back in his step as he hopped over the small stream he’d been following since dusk, landing next to a maze growing in the middle of Gravity Falls forest.   

Made of an unknown bush with petrified wood qualities, the living plants grew slowly over hundreds of years, building on itself like coral and forming a five-foot high maze. Aside from being a great mystery for Gravity Falls botanists, it was a favored camping location for teens. Wendy herself had named it Stoned Hedge when they’d discovered it years ago. A smile lifted his spirits as he remembered playing paintball and tag, setting up a haunted maze, as well as less legal recreational activities.

Dipper wedged his last do-it-yourself torch into a hard, brambly section, dropped his backpack and slid down to the damp, mossy ground. He breathed a long sigh, a huge weight of anxiety falling from his shoulders. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. But, knowing now exactly where he was and the few miles left to the Shack using an easy to follow trail two-hundred feet to the west, he’d allow himself a short rest.

Sitting had never felt so good. Especially after the latest teleportation experience. He groaned, his body tingling with the faint echo of feeling each molecule, cell and nerve of his body explode into existence and compress into physical form like the birth of a star. It had hurt so much worse, and taken him miles outside of Gravity Falls valley this time. Adding injury to agony, it had dropped him some five feet in the air above a rocky hill he then tumbled down until smashing into a tree.

_At least I found my glasses._ He absently adjusted their twisted frames on his face. They remained crooked but functional. Hiking alone for hours through grueling Oregon wilderness would have been impossible blind. His electronics however, sat like useless lumps in his backpack. Shame too, the hike had provided some tragically missed photo opportunities. Dead electronics notwithstanding, he was thankful the more powerful teleportation didn’t fry his body’s electrical circuits. If nothing else, it was proof of concept for the blood-based batteries.

 His stomach knotted as panic tried to overwhelm him again thinking of who gave him the battery schematics. Who tried to kill him by finally making good on his threat to disassemble his molecules. “NO.” Dipper’s voice richoched down the maze path. “His plan didn’t work. You have the element of surprise now. Get back to the Falls. Warn everyone. Full scale evac. Let the fucker rot alone in the weirdness trap.” He repeated the mantra he’d used to keep hiking when his legs threatened to give back at dusk.

Dipper closed his eyes to refocus himself, to mentally prepare for the last leg of the journey. The dark forest obscured the various animals Dipper heard roaming nearby. Owls asked who. Question Quails asked why and where. Raccoons scampered, and insects tentatively played their mating songs despite the early season. Far off, coyotes or wolves called to one another. Tree tops clacked and clattered against each other, at times almost sounding like growls and grunts. Sleep tugged at him, insisting he had time for a tiny nap. Groaning, he shoved the wishful thinking aside and threw his backpack back on as he stood. Hopeful plans of food and rest, a shower, and other luxuries beckoned him.

The icy wind seemed to increase, rustling branches harder, but not pulling at his clothes or hair. Twigs snapped in the distance. Dipper grabbed his torch. Was his luck good enough to find campers out of season? If not human campers, friendly supernatural would be similarly welcome. “Hello? Anyone there? It’s Dipper, Dipper Pines. I could really use some help getting back to town.”

Only a swarm of insects to his right and left called back. Dipper frowned. Too early for cicadas or crickets. Hair raising on his arms, he started backing slowly into the maze. It wasn’t a true maze, plenty of breaks and exits between the formations, and the walls were low enough to vault over. “Hello?” More snapping twigs, louder now. No response. Dipper pulled his baton out, nice and slow. The drained battery wouldn’t shock anyone but the blades could still extend. “If anyone’s out there, I’m human and not looking for trouble. But I will fight back if you are.” _Please be my overtapped nerves._ He had to use his energy returning home, not fending off trouble.

A dry branch snapping over a knee sounded to his left and a dark, four-legged figure leapt onto the left wall 20 feet from his position. Dipper gasped and set a strong stance, his baton held defensively in right hand, torch in left, right foot braced against the maze wall. The torch’s dim light and clouded moon revealed the creature’s large coyote shape and size. However, rather than fur and flesh, it looked like a pile of animated bleached sticks and branches. The creature’s featureless canine head bobbed around as if sniffing the air. Instead of the usual sound of short breaths, this creature made a brambly clatter, like thorns on a bush rubbing together.

_Is it fully wooden? What must its organs be like?_ Dipper cocked his head as if to look through the twigs to find out. Its head whipped towards him with a bone-breaking snap. An angry buzzing echoed from within it as the creature stalked along the wall towards him. _Not bugs...No, more like beans falling in a rainstick. Is that how it growls? No. Stopit!_ Dipper picked up from Stanford the unhealthy habit of wanting to study creatures clearly eager to eat them. Self-preservation overriding his desire to study the unfamiliar creature, Dipper took a cautious step backwards. The cascade of beans intensified.

Hoping a wood-based creature would be mindful of fire, Dipper brandished the torch, jabbing it at the thing and waving it side to side meaningfully. The creature hesitated. “Do you understand me? My name’s Dipper. Have you heard of me?” Always best to start with diplomacy. Cryptids tended to have enough sentience for communication. The beast crept forward still woodenly growing, its more deliberate motions sounding like twigs scraping against tree bark. “I am not food. Find something else to hunt.” Dipper projected as much apex predator dominance as he could muster while avoiding aggressive staring at the flickering shadows the torch cast into the hollow voids where eyes would be expected.  

The creature hunched like a cat ready to spring. A soft, breeze-through-underbrush sound emanated from it along with a heavy resin sap scent. “Easy now. Say, do you know Steve?” _Racist. Just because they’re both wooden?_ He inched away, using the butt of the baton to find a break in the wall. He froze. Another rattling like falling twigs started as a second coyote stalked into the maze where Dipper had entered. Dipper swallowed hard, his blood electric. The two prowled closer. A third rattling flanked him from outside the maze.

Slow, deep breaths. Don’t panic. _Whatever these are, they’re pack hunters and likely have more than three._ Splashing steps in the creek confirmed his hypothesis. The two he could see stalked closer. Dipper kept retreating. They were aggressing but not attacking. _Either I wandered too close to their pups, or they’re planning something._ Neither thought was comforting. _Keep backing away. If it’s the former, they should leave you alone._

“Easy. Everyone stay calm. You want me to leave? I’m gone. No need to make this painful for anyone.” The butt of his baton found a gap in the wall and he started backing through it. With any luck, losing sight of him would deescalate the situation.

Wind howling through branches blasted behind him. He looked over his shoulder, tensed to bolt despite his mind screaming no. A massive bear-sized pile of moving logs growled at him like a mature oak buffeted by a storm. The quadruped was dreidel shaped, all upper body with thin hind legs. Gaping, hollow tree knots substituted eyes and tiny leaves scurried along its wooden body.

Dipper started backing up from it and the other two he could see, legs stiff as metal. Only years of training kept him from sprinting in the opposite direction screaming. He tried to breathe. Recall how he’d survived a dozen other life-threatening situations. “No... no chance you’re the sun-loving, photosynthesizing type?”  

The smaller leapt off the wall landing two feet from him. He flailed the dying torch to cut off its lunge at his legs. The big one growled again. All three advanced with more crackling footsteps outside the maze. Talking his way out wasn’t working. The creatures either lacked the capacity for two-way communication or didn’t care.

Dipper glanced at the fading glow of his makeshift torch, certain its death would lead to his own. Skin cold, mouth dry, heart racing. Baton and torch quivered in his grip as Dipper asked himself the age old question. _Fight or flight?_

Steeling himself, he prepared to execute his last, and least favorite resort. Screaming, he lunged for the closest in front of him. The burning branch slammed into its jaw. It yiped like scattered acorns in a hollow log, falling back and pawing at singed twigs on its face. Despite its apparently wooden structure, it did not fall apart or catch fire.

A good start. But, another strike would break the torch. Engaging the blades on his baton he lunged at the massive creature. A second yell joined the swing. _Scare off the alpha, the others leave._

Blades scrapped rough bark but the big one simply shook its head as if slapped. Wasting no time, Dipper thrust the torch at its face, aiming for an eye. The beast slammed the side of its head into Dipper’s hand. Dipper screamed. The torch thumped to the moss and pine needle covered ground, sputtered and smoldered. In the darkness, he rolled away, keeping his injured left wrist close to his chest. It didn’t feel broken, but he’d need a doctor. _Or a coroner._ The alpha roared. Thankfully, its large size didn’t equate to a deafening volume. But it smelled like an ancient forest post storm.

One of the smaller beasts lunged for his legs again. A quick swipe with his baton connected with its shoulder. Growling, it relented. But, the swing and foot shuffle cost him his balance. He caught himself on the wall, but the injury and near fall broke his nerve. A second lunge barely missed foot as he turned and vaulted over the wall behind him.

Fleeing was always the worst action when interacting with predators. But nothing else had worked. He wasn’t fool enough to think he could outrun them. He’d have seconds at best. On cue, the smallest was nipping at his heels.

The dark forest provided his last hope of survival. An eternity away rose a Y shaped pine tree with low, arm-width branches. He slammed the baton in his mouth to free his hands. Pumping his legs harder than when he had run from Bill’s goons, he reached the tree and leapt into it.

He didn’t know if the beasts could climb. Didn’t care in that moment as he scrambled as high as the branches allowed. Injured wrist bones ground together as he climbed. Rough bark scraped the burns on his other hand. Bits of scabbish bark and soft pine needles stuck to him with sap. Once as high as the branches allowed, he pulled the baton from his mouth. Panting, he waited in the swaying branches for his pursuers.

Below, the creatures paced around the tree. Bark chipped and wood splintered as they scrabbled at the base. One of the limbs drooped almost to the ground. Dipper prayed they didn’t make use of it. The three smaller ones were the concern at this point, old log head likely too large to climb. He should have the advantage in the tree because they would have to attack one at a time. However, the strange species might have advantageous connections to trees. Dipper watched the branches as wearily as the beasts, fearing they would suddenly entangle him or shake him loose.

Time dragged. The creatures didn’t climb after him, but neither did they leave. They prowled around the base, their yipping and chattering indistinguishable from the wind blowing through the forest around them. Occasionally the large one would bellow. A long low sound that carried as well as a Howler Monkey.

“Please just make like a tree and leaf!” Dipper yelled after another such bellow. The smaller creatures howled up at him. One overly industrious member bit the low hanging limb and thrashed around as if to pull the whole tree down. Hope of sleeping or returning to the Falls soon faded like the moonlight obscured by clouds. Dipper sank down on a limb, prepared to wait them out all night. His backpack provided marginal cushion between him and the hard surface. He yawned hard. The adrenaline of imminent death waned into the waiting game.

Futilely tapping his glasses again, he sighed and crossed his arms. _Fucking teleportation. Can’t see, can’t call for help, can’t even browse the net while I wait._ The beasts below settled down into a relaxed posture, looking almost like harmless topiary. Topiary that watched him carefully like the eyes of a haunted painting.

Normally, the forest was a place of comfort and peace for Dipper. The quiet life thriving in it and the thrill of its secrets gave his mind something to focus on. Now, stuck in a tree with death waiting below, berating thoughts swarmed him like flies on a carcass. Those regarding Bill hounded him loudest. How he wouldn't be in this mess if he’d never talked to his statue, betrayed the universe by helping him, or abandoned the town to call him a murderer to his eye. “Now he might follow through on that accusation. But he should forget that conversation, reset because it was true. But if he doesn’t…?” Dipper scrubbed his hair, growling in frustration.

“And why did I think it a good idea to turn off my emergency message?” Dipper asked himself as he rummaged through his bag looking for anything useful. He’d made plenty of stupid decisions the past week, but he wasn’t going to die tonight for them. Throwing his trowel or flashlight might lure them away. _No, only one or two would investigate._ Even if the whole pack left, he wouldn't make it more than a few trees before they were after him again. _Maybe they’ll accept a granola bars?_ he thought, looking at his last bar. His stomach growled in disapproval of the wasted food plan.

As he bit into the snack like it was his last meal, savoring each bite slowly and carefully, creaking limbs and clattering growls tore up the silence. _Did they find new prey?_ Heart lifting, he climbed down a branch to find the cause of the ruckus.

“The hell?”

 “There you are! Thank the infernal chaotic universe I found you!” A bright yellow blur shouted as it zipped around the beasts and up to Dipper’s face.

Dipper screamed and pitched backwards. A lucky catch on a nearby branch saved him from falling forty feet. “Bill?” He squeaked as he steadied himself. _Come to finish the job?_

Oblivious to Dipper’s terror or current predicament, Bill started babbling like a video on double speed. “I’m so glad you’re alive! I thought that spatial distortion field killed you or edited you from cosmic history because I couldn't hear you for hours. Then I thought I found you and followed that false lead until real you suddenly came back way over here! And THEN I thought...something...I don’t remember…” Sparks crackled in his eye momentarily before he continued. “It was a good thought though! Something important…

But then I thought, ‘he’s not gonna want to see you. You were fighting and then pushed him into the spatial displacement. He probably thinks you did it on purpose trying to kill him since that’s what you were arguing about and now he hates you and won’t help you anymore. But I didn’t, I promise! The dumb thing didn’t move like I thought it would then suddenly you were gone and I didn’t know what to do. Now I found you but those things down there want to eat you and won’t listen to me and….. and….” He finally trailed off as he noticed Dipper staring at him like he had two eyes. Small, blushing orange and wringing his hands, he floated in front of Dipper. A toddler on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry!”

_‘He’s a liar. A cheat. He’ll do anything to manipulate you for his purposes,’_ Great Uncle Ford warned.

_Even if you were arguing, he said it himself. He needs my help. That’s the only reason he’s here now and why he says he tried to save me. You can’t trust him._ Needing to remind himself of that fact settled in his stomach like wriggling worms. _Worry about that later._ He needed to focus on the situation at hand, and the important part of Bill’s ramble. ‘They won’t listen to me.’

“Thanks for finding me, Bill. I could really use your help right now.” The words stung his tongue, feeling wholly unnatural.

Bill lit up like an orange moon, “You really mean it?”

Dipper nodded. The triangle’s enthusiasm infectious. A plan formed as he looked down at the creatures. They were quieter now, looking off into the distance.

“Does… Does this mean we aren’t fighting anymore? That you don’t think I’m the… murderer…?” Bill returned to his previous meekness, twiddling his thumbs and avoiding eye contact.

Dipper clenched a fist. While Bill might not have murdered Krevor, he wasn’t innocent. He’d stolen Johnson’s life and destroyed countless worlds. In this instance, the creatures fit the carnage better - the victim’s remaining parts appeared to be in their original locations, dismembered rather than rearranged on a whim. He pointed towards the ground. “I think we found the more likely culprits,” Dipper conceded. “You used to know a lot about a lot. Can you tell me anything about them?”

Bill perked back up, looking relieved at having the charges against him dropped. Rubbing under his eye, he looked down at the creatures, body flickering through images of various creatures ranging from mundane to terrifyingly grotesque. Dipper could’ve sworn he saw images of squirrels at least three times in the rapid transitions. “Other than they’re from a rrrrrreeeeeaaallly old tree far from here and something about a flood, I got nothing,” he said, shrugging helplessly.

Interesting. But, not useful. “Alright, I have two plans. You said you could talk with them, right?” Dipper started lowering himself down the branches. His wrist did not appreciate the extra work. In Bill’s yellow light, the bruising appeared especially concerning.

“Did you miss the ‘not listening’ part?”Bill said, following him down.

“Maybe you weren’t talking to the right one. They’re clearly pack animals. They have to have an alpha.” The creatures ignored him as he settled on a limb about ten feet off the ground. Dipper squinted as he looked at the creatures. In Bill’s low light, he counted more than had originally chased him. Four coyote to wolf-sized ones. Three bear-sized.

Dipper was an amature zoologist, but the smaller ones, with their lean bodies and non-retractable claws, seemed built for speed. _Gammas. The harassers and corralers? Betas. Big ones probably finish prey once it’s too exhausted to run. Are they...grown for specific roles or do they mature into them?_ Had his predicament been less dire, he would have been happy to study them. “Alright, Bill. Which one’s the alpha? Let’s see if we can convince it to lead the pack away.” His guess was the large one on the left. It held itself apart and had better...posture, for lack of a better word.

“Mmm, I’m gonna say it’s the big one lumbering up to us,” Bill said, pointing into the dark forest. Heavy thumps punctuated the statement. Perplexed, Dipper followed the triangle’s extended finger. Some fifty yards away, a massive silhouette plodded towards them. Each step reverberated through the ground and up the tree. Had Dipper a glass of water, it would have rippled ominously. Dipper’s stomach crawled with spiders and millipedes as the beast approached. A deep rumble, like an ancient tree succumbing to age and crashing into primordial forest grounds, shook his bones. The other creatures lowered their heads and backed away.

Dipper gulped, “Uh, Bill?” he asked, fighting the urge to climb back up the tree.

“Don’t ask me. This was your brilliant plan.” The triangle shrank and hid behind Dipper’s shoulder.

The mammoth beast reached their tree, standing almost level with Dipper and Bill. It was elephant-sized, thick like a giant sequoia. Wild gnarls and roots erupted from its body like a thicket of thorns. Under the moon, its bleached wood looked like bones. The spiders and millipedes had escaped his stomach, now crawling through his entire body. _Please be docile like Ents._ White knuckles gripped the tree, his skin erupted into goosebumps when the leaves blanketing its body rustled menacingly. “Bill, Bill. Say something. Tell it to lead the others away.” 

Bill remained by Dipper’s shoulder but cleared his throat before making series of short sounds like twigs crunching and snapping. Dipper wrinkled his nose. It wasn’t a pleasant language to listen to up close. The mammoth responded with wind creaking through bare branches. Dipper wasn’t sure if it was a positive or negative reply until it started backing up. The smaller ones scattered.

“Haha! You did it! Good work.” Bill’s response was to yelp and rope his arms around Dipper and the tree.

The beast charged. Mulched fragments flew off in all directions as the tree groaned against the assault. Dipper’s bones rattled with the tree’s violent shaking. Bark bit into his skin. More bruises formed where he smacked against the tree. “What did you say to it?” Dipper shouted. Below, the smaller beasts began to howl.

“Thought I told it to leave! Maybe I got the accent wrong? Hold on!” The tree shook again. Bits of bark and needles rained down on them. Bill made another racketing noise of sticks and leaves before the next charge. “I think negotiations have begun to break down. What was plan B?”

“We have to scare them off and escape before it brings us down with the tree!”Dipper interrupted another of Bill’s frantic attempts.

“No kidding. How, smart guy?”

“Shoot finger beams at them, blast around them with your laser eye, levitate and throw them away, turn huge and scream at them. I don’t care, just do something!”

“I can do all that?”

“Damnit, yes! You’re scary as hell when you want to be!”

“Rude.” Bill leveled a glare at Dipper. “Why does it have to be me? I don’t want to be mauled. You sure you don’t know a lumberjack or something?” Bill complained.

The tree shook and swayed like a drunk, one punch from going down. “BILL!”

“Fine fine. I’ll try. Dunno about all this finger gun business though. Sounds ridiculous.” As Bill unwrapped his arms from around Dipper, one hand slipped into his bag and pulled out the baton. “Can I borrow this?” Dipper nodded furiously. His teeth chattered with the next impact and he almost slipped without Bill’s assistance, his arms fatigued from gripping the tree.

Bill tapped the baton against his hand, swinging it side to side as if to measure its weight. His eye curved upwards in a grin as he discovered the blade protrusions after cautiously pushing in the little button on the handle. It was absurdly huge in his noodle thin hands but he seemed not to notice. The beast grunted and backed up. Satisfied with his inspections, he nodded to himself and looked down at the charging Alpha. With a mind melting shriek, yellow changed to red. His eye faded to a void too dark to be called black. Triangle became pyramid as he and the baton exploded into a two story nightmare of raging, flailing limbs and metal. The tree swayed back upright as the mammoth beast stopped its assault and moved a cautious pace away.

Ears ringing, Dipper shuffled lower on the trees, waiting to see if Bill could drive them off. They certainly seemed intimidated, flinching back and snarling as Bill continued screaming and flailed the baton. Some of the screaming sounded like a hurricane snapping trees like toothpicks.

One Gamma, likely the overly industrious from before, poorly judged the timing of its lunge towards the baton. It flew at least twelve yards, landing with a clattering yipe and significantly less bark on its shoulder. “Sorry, not sorry!” The others took the hint and fled into the forest. The Alpha, however, remained rooted to its spot.

Bill half-twisted back to Dipper as the human dropped to the ground. “Go on, I got this,” he said with a thumbs up, twirling the baton like he used to with his cane.

Adrenaline dampening his body’s protests, Dipper sprinted through the forest. Bill’s shrieking dredged up long buried nightmares, driving him faster. The unearthly noises abruptly cut off moments after entering Stoned Hedge. He slowed to a jog, glancing back. _NO._ He pushed onwards. _He’s Bill Cipher. Memories or not he’s invincible! He’ll be fine._ The crawling insects returned to his stomach.

Nine paces on to the trail, packed down harder than cement from years of use, a new sound shook the forest. Dipper froze despite primal instinct screaming to run as far as possible from the unholy Shepherd’s Madness of mixer grating against a metal bowl. Woody howls and snarls almost drowned out the tinny screeching cries for help.

Dipper stood nailed to the path. A lifetime ago, far away in India, through the haze of smoked plants, captive voices cried out for help. He’d been in no shape to help them. Now… _No! It’s Bill. He’s not human. Those things can’t hurt him!_ He paced further down the path, feet trudging as if through mud. _Even if he didn’t kill Krevor, even if he tried to help you mid-fight, came to save you now, that doesn’t change that he’s a monster and you have to warn someone about him, and them. He gave you this chance just for that purpose!_

Another scream, like a badly played violin with out of tune strings.

Hands clenched. Feet pulling through cement. _Maybe they’ll finish him off?_ That would solve a major problem. He’d only have to worry about those other creatures.

Another scream. This one thicker, like bubbling ooze.

Dipper took a step. This was for the best. Bill would understand. They weren't friends. He’d told him they screwed each other over all the time. ‘You left me for dead? Yeah, that is-.’   _What if he didn’t die?_ Dipper’s shoulder tensed. _He might come back, memories intact, or just livid and be the monster I was trying to prevent…_

A quiet cry for help, barely heard over a ground shaking howl.

“God Damnit!” Dipper sprinted back the way he’d come.

Half mile run found him back with the creatures. Three of four Gammas lay on their sides panting, broken branches and snapped twigs all over their bodies. Something like sap leaking from them. The three Betas looked injured but still circled around the Alpha. In the center, the Alpha towered over the small, yellow pyramid. Bill lay eye down, motionless and dim like a lightbulb ready to blow. Dipper’s insides squirmed at the sight.

_What the hell can I do?_ The biggest threat looked scorched and suffered knicks and dings, but seemed unperturbed. As invincible as Bill should have been. _Did the amnesia make him vulnerable? Why didn’t I warn him?_

He felt a palm sized rock by his feet. Taking a chance, he lobbed it away some fifty feet from the pack. He threw another when the creatures showed aggressive interest, but only one stood to investigate the dull thud. Dipper scuffled around looking for another stone he could throw a different direction, make them think multiple prey was around. His hand landed on something long and hard. A thrill of hope surged through him, knowing its feel and weight. He engaged the blades. They popped out with a shnick like a gunshot through the forest.

The creatures looked in his direction. Praying for a hail mary he flicked the taser switch. Another surge of hope. Tataatatatatata. The weapon whirled and thrummed in his hands. Blue white arcs of electricity flicked between the blades. Not only proving Bill charged nearby electronics but hopefully giving him an edge. The creatures growled and stalked closer to his tree.

_Last mistake of my life!_

He screamed and charged.

The last standing Gamma snarled and lunged at him. Dipper swiped it in the shoulder. It fell to the ground thrashing. Wood was a poor conductor. But wet wood and high amps surged through the creature’s frame leaving intricate burn lines where the electricity found the path of least resistance.

 He slid on the ground in the leaves to dodge a lunge from a Beta. It tore open his bag, grazing his back. He hissed but kept moving, trusting the kevlar in his coat to hold up better than the bag. Operating on years of honed experience, Dipper rolled to his feet, and grazed another beast in the jaw.

The beast shook its head and advanced, undeterred. Dipper swung again in an uppercut. This time it connected, electrocuting it with a howl before Dipper wrenched the blades free against the screech of bending metal. The blades wouldn’t take too much of that abuse, it wasn't an axe.

 Dipper turned and charged towards the Alpha. It reared back on thick hind legs, towering high as a mature maple. It moved slowly, almost ponderously, but one good blow would crush him. He dove towards Bill like a baseball player stealing homebase. It smashed down. Like an Indiana Jones film, Dipper grabbed Bill, narrowly avoiding crushed limbs as his momentum slammed him into the beast hind legs. Winded, he curled around the pyramid in his arms, coughing to catch his breath. The Alpha snorted and turned towards the annoyance at its feet. The other two Betas stalked towards his left, flanking him.

“Bill,” Dipper wheezed. The pyramid remained unresponsive. The Alpha growled, raising a single foot. Dipper said a silent goodbye to his baton as he positioned it underneath the Alpha like a landmine and scrambled from beneath it. “Be a great time to wake up,” he shouted, holding Bill like a football, dodging the snapping jaws of a Beta. The Alpha slammed down on the ground. Hard.  

Burning wood and ozone smell exploded through the area. The massive beast roared, the sound dense and heavy like the flattening of trees after a volcanic eruption.  Dipper’s ears rang with the too-familiar tiiiiiing that warned of the onset of tinnitus. His head throbbed as the smaller creatures joined in with the alpha in a chorus of howls.

Dipper sprinted past the howling creatures into the darkness. The Alpha stomping his baton had crushed and ignited the battery. Aside from the explosion, the blades trapped in its foot would be worse than a thorn in a lion’s paw hopefully slowing future pursuit. He raced back to the trail as if the devil was after him, ignoring the irony of carrying one in his arms.

Dipper ran until the fire in his legs threatened to consume him and breathing felt like inhaling glass. A small cluster of boulders slightly off the path, The Seven Sisters, presented a shielded rest stop. None knew the true origin of how seven large boulders came to huddle together in the forest. The favorite theory being a group of sisters or friends from old coming out to gossip and do unladylike activities so often they were cursed to stay there forever.  

One of the boulders nestled near the center had an awning shape. He plopped underneath it, feeling slightly safer and a little awkward trying to banish the image of crawling under a girl’s skirt. The silent forest reinforced his hope of safety. Surely the creatures had given up on dangerous, small game like him after their last encounter. It couldn’t be worth their effort.

Dipper set Bill next to him like a book on display. Bill remained dim and unconscious. Taking his broken glasses off to clean them, surprised they’d stayed on his face throughout the ordeal despite their condition, he took stock of his situation. He’d sacrificed his beloved baton, but it had bought them valuable time. His new backpack was ruined by a long gash down the side. His back stung from the blow that tried to break his spine. The burns on his right hand now paled in comparison to the pain when he tried flexing his wrist and fingers. It didn’t feel broken, but his hands had had a hard week. _As long as those things aren’t chasing us anymore, I’ll count it all a net gain._

He turned his attention to Bill. “Bill?” he whispered, mindful of how far his voice would travel in the quiet forest. No response. Checking for a pulse, he pinched a noodle arm between two fingers. A faint sensation tingled his fingers, like touching a plasma ball. The arm listlessly dropped back to the ground. Around him, the air wavered like leaking gas. Dipper skimmed his hand through it, yanking it back as if he’d grabbed a downed powerline.

_The hell?_ Did Bill do that previously? _Why is he… could this be… blood? Being of pure energy, makes sense to bleed it._ But how to stop it? He couldn’t see any obvious injuries beyond the missing bowtie. Apparently that wasn’t part of his body like his hat. _Unless it was and he’s missing a limb or organ equivalent._ The earlier metallic wrenching sound ghosted through his thoughts with a shiver. _Worse, he’s naked._ The scandal. _Don’t be stupid. You have to stop the bleeding, and if it’s energy...insulators might act as a bandage._

Thanks to the surge of environmentalism in late 2020’s, organic materials became more common in household items. Rubber replaced some polyesters in backpacks. _For the money I paid, this better have organic natural rubber lining it._ Dipper reshuffled what was left in the torn bag and gently placed Bill inside. The bulky pyramid didn’t fit well but Dipper managed to zip it closed and used the rope to tie it tighter.  He’d had to flatten Bill’s ridiculous floating top hat; despite not touching him it seemed to be locked in place floating above him. _Hopefully that didn’t hurt him in some way…_ At least now both his hands would be free. _Wonder if he’d hate being carted around like a textbook? He’s hitched a ride in it before, what’s a second time?_

Too many questions rose from tonight about Bill’s state. The amnesia made sense after the memory gun incident. But why couldn’t he retain anything about himself? Why were his powers erratic? Why had he lost invulnerability? How could they fix it? More importantly, why was he still trying so hard? He had a guilt-free opportunity to let something else finish Bill. Countless dimensions would have unknowingly breathed a sigh of relief.  But, that felt like a cop out. That he’d lose something  if he didn’t see this through. But he wasn’t sure what. He tried not to feel like a comic book villain saving the hero, then started with surprise that he hadn’t imagined Bill as the villain.

After a few minutes’ rest, and no sounds of creaking footsteps or wind through the trees, Dipper carefully pulled on his backpack and resumed his trek. His back tingled as he picked his way along the trail. Unsure if it was from the attack, Bill ‘bleeding’ on him, or simply his mind giving him the heebie jeebies. A mantra of ‘make it to the Shack’ looped in his head.

_Once I’m there, I can.. I can… what?_ Abandon him unconscious in the woods to be attacked again? Cut the unicorn shield, smuggle him into the Shack for safe keeping until he’s better? ...Finally tell someone he’s sort of back? He shook his head. If he’d nearly run off a cliff when they met, how badly would the others take the news? What would they think of him for helping. For rescuing him.

Dipper wiped his forehead, sweat dripping down his brow. It was a cold night and too easy a walk to be profusely sweating. The bag shifted on his shoulders, radiating heat like an oven. Cursing, he yanked it off and tore it open.

Bill had returned to flat triangle form. His brow scrunched, arms jerking like a dog dreaming. He was muttering something unintelligible but painful to hear. Dipper made the mistake of pulling Bill from his bag, only to feel like he’d grabbed hot coals and drop him. The muttering and twitching escalated to shouting and flailing.

“No….No…”

“Bill! Wake up or shut up!” Dipper hissed, looking around the silent forest.

“nononononoNO!” Bill bolted three feet into the air. His body blackened as if charred, eye blood red. His whole form twitched and fizzed like a corrupted VHS film. Suddenly, the ground beneath him erupted into electric blue flames, consuming him.  He hovered amidst the flames, eye clenched, trembling and falling apart. He screamed like power lines snapping.

Justifying it as self-preservation before Bill signaled their location to everything in the forest, or burnt it down, Dipper tackled Bill out of the fire. The moment they hit the ground, the flames vanished without a trace. An illusion. A nightmare made real.

Bill’s limbs curled in like a dead bug as Dipper held him gingerly as if holding a baby with a soiled diaper. “Bill, are you awake?” Dipper whispered, shaking the triangle slightly. His fingers thrummed with the energy of holding a live wire. “Hey, it's Dipper. I have you, you’re safe. We escaped.” He gently placed Bill on the ground, in case the triangle burst into flames again. He’d be punted the second time.

Slowly, Bill opened his eye and looked around. His arms and legs incrementally uncurled as he remained unmolested. “What… What happened?” He asked Dipper in a tiny tuning fork voice.

“You don’t remember?” Bill shook his top angle. Of course not. At least the attack, and whatever Bill just experienced, hadn't restored him or Dipper would be a puddle of slag. He scanned the forest. Nothing stood out in the few feet he could see ahead. “Lets walk and talk. Quietly.” Bill nodded, drifting to hover near Dipper’s shoulder as if using him for protection.

“Turn your glow down,” Dipper said as he grabbed his bag. Not tripping on every other rock would have been nice, but avoiding detection from a mile away by hungry predators was better. Bill hesitated, looking unsure of himself. Dipper sighed and held open his bag. “Shrink and hop in. Just don’t fry my camera.” Couldn’t sound too nice. Bill smiled with a firefly flicker before shrinking into the bag.

Nacho chip sized, he poked out of the gash.  “This wasn’t my doing this time… was it?” His voice a whisper, but not cartoonishly chipmunk for his small size.

“Not this time. But, what do you remember after we split? How did those things hurt you? Didn’t think that was possible.”

“That would have been nice to know.” Dipper’s back warmed with Bill’s tangible annoyance. “Well, I… I didn’t want you to think I was a killer again, so I tried not to hurt them too bad. Though, they didn’t have the same reservations,” his voice a tiny tuning fork again.

Dipper clenched the straps of his bag. _Idiot. We’re in this mess cuz of how I handled that._

“But, you should have seen it! I had those things on the ropes! Wham! Take that! Out the park! BAM!” The bag shuffled about as Bill flailed.

“Shhh.”

“Right, sorry. But then something's wrong, I felt… wrong… and suddenly I’m small again and they’re biting and clawing and it was bad!” He squeaked like a bent spoon.

_Must have reset because I told him about his powers. Stupid._ “Are you still hurt? I think you were bleeding or something earlier.”

“I was?” Bill disappeared and the bag shuffled around again. He poked back out. “I don’t know… but those teeth and claws were sharp! I think I have splinters in my bricks.”

“Maybe they’ll make good souvenirs for you.” Taking a chance, Dipper added, “I’ve seen you regenerate and self heal. Have you tried that yet?”

Bill’s eye opened wide. Images flitted across his surface. Phoenix feathers, green magic, video game health packs, a gilled salamander. Suddenly, little green sparkles shimmered around Bill like in an RPG. They faded a second later and Bill smiled up at him.

“Feel better?” Dipper asked, just a little jealous. Not that he was about to ask his sudden white mage for a healing potion. “What about your bowtie?” _Should reappear if it’s part of his body._ That’s how video games worked at least.

“My…” Bill shrieked and vanished back into the bag again.

Dipper winced. _We should stop talking before he attracts unwanted guests._

But it raised some interesting questions concerning Bill’s powers and how they worked. _He’s been able to do almost anything I’ve told him he could, one way or another._ A noodle arm shot from the bag and plucked a crunchy, brown oak leaf from a passing tree. _At least for a few seconds. But what are the triggers? The rules dictating use? Does he have control or not?  The healing suggests yes, but that flame outburst… what was that even?_

“What do you think?” Bill popped out of the bag, enlarging to half his normal size and showing off his new accessory.

“Um… Good. Looks good.” Bill beamed. It did not. The leaf was so last year and the moldy browns clashed horribly with Bill’s brilliant yellow. Dipper didn’t want to guess how Bill made it stay, nor explain the implications of that particular color combination. “Back in the bag please.” Bill disappeared.

The subsequent walk through the forest was oddly peaceful, for the brief moments Dipper could manage to forget his injuries and the fight that caused them. Bill’s dim glow was an almost comforting presence, a ward against the loneliness of the dark forest as he navigated between pockets of moonlight peeking through the trees.

“Dipper,” Bill poked half his tiny self out of the rip “Why am I in your bag? I mean, I thought the plan was for me to distract and you to run back home? I don’t remember what happened after they knocked me down...I don’t remember a lot of things...Did… did they leave me alone once I was down or…”

The question hung in the air. Dipper wasn’t sure the best way to respond until the truth was already out of his mouth. “I came back when I heard you were in trouble. Scared them off enough to grab you and run.” Brownie points hopefully if Bill ever regained his memories. _Maybe he’ll kill me quickly and painlessly_.

“Really?”

Dipper nodded. His grip tightened on his bag. The yellow glow behind him flushed rosy pink and vanished.

He looked up at the sky, trying to gauge how much longer until it began turning that same color. _Couple hours, maybe?_ He looked around, logically knowing nothing was there behind him but lizard-brain whispered dreadful thoughts in a dark corner of his mind. Logic took a backseat on the first bus out of town as he turned back in front of him and flinched hard, biting his tongue to keep from screaming when he saw Bill in front of his face.

Bill remained small, his color now a warm, sunset orange color. It clashed slightly less with his oak leaf bowtie. “Why’d you do it?” hands wringing, eye averted, “You said before we’ve abandoned each other plenty. You could’ve died coming back for me. I almost did! Does… does this mean,” orange blushed pink, “we’re...friends now?”

 Chills raced across his skin, stomach free-falling. “Friends? No. That was just. We’re not. I was just…” Dipper sputtered. “It was the right thing to do. I owed you one... And you owe me a new baton!” Dipper gulped, hoping his voice hadn’t cracked as many times as he thought.

Years ago, after a harrowing experience in an underground bunker with a shapeshifting monster, Dipper had a similar conversation with his first impossible crush. Bill looked identical now, desaturating color and downcast gaze, to how he’d felt then after having his heart rejected while they sat together on a log alone in the forest.

Bill didn’t have Soos or Mabel to immediately cheer him up after the rejection. He didn’t even have friendship to fall back on as Dipper had had with Wendy. He was friendless in a dangerous world that had just done its best to kill him without even his sense of self to fall back on.

_But that’s his own fault. It’s HIS FAULT!_ Dipper side-stepped the pale floating triangle. “We should keep going.” Great Uncle Ford’s warning looped in his mind. He won’t repeat his great uncle’s mistake, not when he knew better.

            The pale glow faded from his peripherals as he walked. He turned around. Rather than disappearing as he’d done after past disagreements, Bill hovered on the path. Silent. Looking off into the distance. “Are you coming?” Friends or not, he didn’t want Bill left behind where he could be attacked again, or worse, found by someone else.

Bill glanced his way and back to the forest almost too fast to catch. Dipper forcibly shoved down the guilt that tried to crawl through his chest. _It’s the exhaustion talking._ He turned to keep walking. Bill and his feelings be damned.

“You should hide,” Bill whispered.

Blood abandoned his face. Air rushed to his lungs. His body pulsed with the itch to sprint. He looked back at Bill, his expression soundlessly asked the question. Bill nodded, pointing in three different directions. He drifted closer, but left an obvious breadth between them.

“They haven’t found us yet. But I’m not playing decoy again if they do. Partner.”

Dipper ignored the scathing tone in favor of finding a decent hiding spot. A desperate glance around revealed nothing but dense forest full of snappable twigs and crunchy brush. _How did they track us? Smell? Heat? Should have rolled in mud or walked in the water to keep them off our trail._ With no obvious hiding spot, Dipper took his only option. Bill shrank further and joined him as he crouched alongside the largest tree near them on the path. Waiting in a low position, controlling his breathing and ready to run, Dipper watched Bill indicate the creatures’ proximity via holding finger and thumb closer and closer together.

Crunching sticks and leaves tickled by wind sounded around them, occasional buzzing calls at each side. Dipper held his breath. Willed his heart to stop beating for a minute when Bill’s fingers almost touched. At this point, he considered it a blessing he could hardly see the forest ready to devour him.

Finally, Bill started to move his fingers apart. Each inch was an eternity as Dipper’s lungs burned with the strain. Dipper had never felt such relief in his adult life, or at least the last year.

Something flickered in his periphery. He might have needed new pants at this point. The flicker came again. It wasn’t one of the creatures though. He realized too late a film had come over his cracked glasses, and in the corner was a spinning loading circle. _FUCK! Bill recharged my glasses!_

In his seconds of indecision about whether to smash his glasses into silence or not, they dinged their happy welcome like a church bell through the silent forest.

Hollowed tree-trunk howls followed.

Bill slowly swiveled on Dipper, an expression of a man done with the world. “I was starting to think we weren’t in a cliche horror movie.”

Dipper instinctively shushed him, rapidly blinking and moving his eyes to silence the cascade of dings and notifications as his glasses made up for lost time. Most were from Gideon. Something about water.

The last message came from Xander like a god-sent command.

“Bro, RUN!”

Howls and running paws echoed through the forest.

“They know we're here!” Bill screeched.

Following Xander’s uncanny advice, Dipper grabbed Bill’s hand and sprinted down the path. With any luck, they would reach the Shack and the beasts would back off.

Cracking wood raced alongside them within moments. Growls and howls followed.

Adrenaline or not, Dipper was already near his limit. His whole body felt like over worked steel ready to snap from the hammer’s next blow. Three circles flanked them, closing in fast on his glasses proximity alert

“You’re gonna need to run about 32% faster kid!”Bill shouted, switching their roles and dragging the human behind him.

“Not. Gonna. Work,” he panted. Climbing a tree again would be the only option in a minute. With his glasses recharged, he could call for help. His legs took that option away when they signaled their immediate resignation via massive charley horse. He tried to keep moving, but the cramp disrupted his lagging gait. A dent in the path took him down.

“SERIOUSLY?” Bill shrieked, his arm stretching behind him as Dipper ate dirt. His glasses clattering out of reach.

“Look out!” The coyote-sized Gamma seized the opportunity before Bill could yank Dipper back to his feet.

“AUGH! GITOFF! Bill! HELP!” Dipper screamed as it sank its teeth around his foot. The thick boot sole kept the beast from biting his foot off but not for long. He kicked it hard in the face with his other foot.

A larger Gamma charged from the left. Dipper barely curled in on himself before the creature landed on him. The shredded backpack and kevlar lining of his jacket provided some protection as it scraped and bit at his back.

Bill hovered around the beasts, shouting, tugging at their knobby tails to no effect. His form continually fizzled as he proved useless in the struggle.

Another scream as the larger Gamma changed tactic and clamped down on Dipper’s arm. Teeth like wooden stakes weren’t able to penetrate the jacket’s sleeves, but the bite pressure alone crushed his arm. Dipper became the rope in a tug of war between them. Sharpened wood scraped his foot. The other Gamma almost through his boot as it yanked and thrashed with the larger beast.

He kept kicking and flailing, trying to dislodge his attackers. All rational that doing so incurred more damage and made a predator attack harder. Pain and a single thought of survival drove him onwards. Punch. Kick. Flail. Repeat.

Amidst his flailing, his hand landed on a loose rock. He grabbed it and smashed it repeatedly into the beast on his arm. It whimpered and let go as the rock broke several wooden teeth. He turned his attention to the other in time to feel serrated teeth clamp down on soft flesh and hard bone. Dipper screamed again, losing the rock as it thrashed. His whole leg felt like it would tear off.  

He’d been attacked and tortured before, but it never made it hurt less. He kicked again at the one on his foot, trying to crawl away with his good arm. He’d take losing a foot if it meant escape. A Beta growled off to the side, waiting among the shadows. THe other Gamma growled in his face, remaining teeth perilously close to his neck. “Bill, PLEASE!” His voice cracked as the Gamma clamped harder on his foot.

“ENOUGH!” Bill’s voice thundered through the woods. Everything stopped. Vivid red surrounded him and the creatures. A familiar pulsating energy coursed around him as they lifted off the ground. Same as the first time he met Bill, the energy almost hurt, but was nothing compared to his current injuries.

The creatures on the other hand, whimpered, foliage wilting on their backs as they forgot Dipper and tried to move and flee. The red energy held them tight. Somewhere in Dipper’s pain hazed mind, he expected Bill to use the telekinesis to fling the creatures away like all magic users did in tv and movies. Instead, the creatures howled in bone chilling agony. Their wood branches and sticks pulled apart, snapping like dry kindling over a knee. Both creatures fell apart into messy firewood piles ready to burn. A moment later, they did. Blue fire incinerated them in moments, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

Dipper dropped to the ground like a discarded bag of flour. Ash and burnt sugar smell were the only remainders of the creatures. He rolled over to vomit. Bill, form twitching and fizzing like a radio with poor signal, hovered close to his face as he caught his breath. Body trembling and covered in cold sweat. Blood pooled in his boot, stained his sleeve and the ground below him. He wanted nothing more than to pass out. But more of the beasts waited. Their howls and cries a haunting background through the forest.

Bill wrung his hands as if nervous and unsure how to proceed.

“Help me up.”

“Shouldn’t you rest? Patch up your wounds?”

“We have to keep going.” Dipper held up his uninjured arm. If he stopped now, he wouldn’t make it home. “This may be the best chance we have, while they aren’t sure what happened.” Bill literally triple wrapped his arms around Dipper’s own. A third arm sprang from his side, picked up the glasses off the ground, and placed them on Dipper’s face. Dipper barely noticed as Bill pulled him to his feet.

Dipper wasn’t sure how long they shuffled as he drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point, he realized Bill’s many arms were carrying most of his weight, with arms conveniently wrapped tight around his injured arm and ankle like tourniquets. Dipper might have asked him to levitate him back to the Shack, had Bill not used his power to kill those poor creatures. _They hadn’t deserved that._ He probably didn’t mean to. Said he didn’t want to hurt them. Must have lost control of his powers. The creatures didn’t return. Bill flashed red and growled like a tree in a storm a few times, but only distant howls responded.

Cheerful pinks and oranges painted the sky in broad strokes, chasing the long night away when Bill pulled Dipper to consciousness again. “That Shack place you’re staying at is about a 100 meters ahead.” The Mystery Shack’s beautiful lit up windows glinted through the budding trees west of the path they walked. Several cars sat silhouetted in the parking lot. Bill carefully unwrapped Dipper from his arms, leaning him against a sturdy ash. “Sounds like there are people there.”

Dipper grit his teeth, barely standing on his good foot. His whole body tingled as blood flow started recirculating. The bites on his arm and foot felt warm and wet again. He had to find proper medical help soon. Through spiderwebbed lenses, he saw three shadowy figures clustered in the parking lot. Snippets of shouted conversation made it through the trees.

“Lost... that Dunderhead!”

“Not… responsibility!”

Something about the voices beat at his mind like a woodpecker hunting grubs.

“Can you make it the last bit or…” Bill asked, quiet and subdued.

For another moment of insanity, Dipper wanted Bill to stay. He certainly didn’t want him to go back in there with those things. But the last vestiges of rational thought said he wouldn’t be able to coherently explain Bill’s return or any other important details, and everyone might mistake Bill for the source of his injuries. He needed to sleep. Probably a hospital. He shook his head. “I can make it from here.”

Bill hovered close like a momma bird unwilling to watch her fledglings leave the nest as Dipper took a shaky step. Agony lit up his nerves, forcing him to brace against the next nearest tree.

“No… this won’t work…” Bill muttered. Dipper grunted when his neck protested looking over at Bill. The triangle put a hand up as if to shout. Suddenly, Dipper’s own voice loudly projected from Bill. “I need help! Please! Over Here!” It was stilted and awkward, like audio ripped and spliced together.

“Bill, stop. What are you-.”

“Just giving you a final hand,” he said with a blink wink.

Shouts from the parking lot wafted over them like sweet spring flowers after a hard winter. Relief and gratitude brought a smile to his face. “Thank you, Bill. I would have died without you tonight.” He wasn’t above admitting that.

Bill looked away, turning a warm shade of orange. “Don’t thank me until you’re not dying faster than you’re supposed to for a carbon based life-form.”

Dipper coughed a laugh. “Ok. I’ll be back to help with your amnesia as soon as--,”

“Take your time. I’ll be fine. Collect squirrels or something…”He was still orange.

Dipper’s ribs didn’t appreciate his second laugh. Weird to remember that was their biggest objective the other day. “Remember to go vertical if you run into those things again.” Bill tipped his hat forward in a nod. He shouted in Dipper’s voice again before vanishing into the woods.

Dipper stumbled forward another tree or two. Voices shouted and drew closer. Dipper yelled in a cracking, croaking voice. Two, then three backlit figures rushed into the woods. His knees gave out, stomach twisting in knots and he thought he’d be sick again when the figures became clear. The large one was Gideon. The other two were from his worst nightmare. “Xander? Mabel?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends Act 1. Have I told you all how this story was planned as 8 chapters at 3,000 words each? How did this become chapter 16 of Act 1 at 10k words? Anyway, I hope you like what I've started and will continue to read as I publish more chapters.   
> I'm not sure yet how long the rest of the story will be or how specifically things will go. But that's half the fun of writing, right? If you have comments, concerns, questions, or even complaints, please let me know.   
> I'm planning to take some time to put the Act 2 together as well as work on some other pressing projects. Anyone going to Tokyo in Tulsa 2018? I plan to post buffers though during the hiatus, so don't think this is me abandoning the story or leaving you high and dry.  
> until we meet again some sunny day my beloved readers, I look forward to hearing from you! Have wonderful lives, cherish each day and always strive for your best! But, also remember, "Reality's an illusion! The universe is a hologram! Buy gold! BYE!"


	18. There is a Billdip tag on this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> INTERMISSION. In-In- termission!  
> So, I spoiled all of us with a couple regular updates. To be fair, I was unemployed and had those last few chapters written, they only needed editing. These last two chapters of Act 1 are only outlined, in need of first drafting and the works.  
> I had plans to write and have ch 13 and 14 published by November. Then, I'd spend Nanowrimo sorting HUNDREDS OF PAGES OF NOTES, as well as figuring out what to do for Act 2. Well, my brain didn't like that plan and flipped the note sorting and writing. So the plan now is to sort my notes and get my acts together (heh) before November. Then Nano the crap out of ch 13 and 14. The goal is to have Act 1 done and published before the end of the year. Then, another short intermission to begin Act 2.  
> But I don't want to leave ya'll hanging. So, I'm adding some intermissions. These will be either comics -such as my Bill's Pet I've been promising- or random blurbs that will either be feasible in the story but might not make it into said story, or just pure shenanigans.  
> Anywho, hope these help fill the void in your life between chapter submissions!

Updated, cuz fuck photobucket and their obscene prices. Hopefully, DA won't fail me.

Alright, since I've been plowing through old notes, I found some real nuggets in here I hope you'll enjoy. Let's start this off with the wildest shenanigans and the most BillDip I have available. This is not canon in the story, it's the hilarious result of way too many NSFW questions asked about BillDip and what weirdness could happen after learning Bill's hat is fleshy and that he allegedly doesn't know his own gender. I drew this summer 2016, gods has it really been that long? Yes, this is the roughest draft of this conversation turned comic -hopefully you can read my terrible chicken scratch handwriting and keep track of who is who- but if you ever want to read the rest of this story, don't ask me to finalize it because it's something like 70+ panels and would take ages. Anyway, enjoy Bill and Dip finding out they're parents.

 

And here's where I ran out of steam and slice of life ideas for this monstrosity. Gods *facepalms* this comic got so out of hand. Anyway, let me know what you think and if you want more intermission filler while I work on the actual story. 

 


	19. Deal With It -Blooper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's an old idea that came from the irresistible pun. Maybe not my best work, but it amused me to write. It's not part of the story, so no spoilers.
> 
> I promise the other chapters are in the works. That's the point of Nanowrimo. My handle there is Creslix as well if anyone Nanos and wants to connect!

“Bill Bill Bill!” Mabel came screeching into the spacious living room of the Rameriez home, interrupting the amnesic triangle’s record 19 hour playthrough of “Last Dream XXXVI: Mayhem and Disorder”. Quadrilateral Xine skipped the thirtieth installment title for obvious reasons.  
Glowing long and dull with his sigh, Bill paused the game and turned to the mother as she stood bouncing on her toes next to him with almost literal sparkles in her eyes. “Yes Mabel, something on your mind?” If he had lungs, he would have been holding his breath waiting for her newest idea.  
“I’ve just had the BEST idea!” Bill seriously wondered if there was an actual age or maturity gap between her and her 2-year-old son.  
“Isn’t that what you said yesterday before using a hot glue gun to bedazzle me?” His bloodshot eye suddenly morphed into a mouth full of beartrap style teeth. He reached a diminutive black hand far back into the new mouth, past the eyeball and downward. With a cough, he removed his arm and hand holding a sparkling blue rhinestone. He flicked it to the side as his eye returned, brow quirked in Mabel’s direction.  
She seemed not to take the hint as she waved her hand dismissively, “This will take way less time. I promise.” Missing the point entirely. “All I need you to do this time is pose for me while looking smug.”  
Bill narrowed his eye at her. “What’s your game, Pines.”  
“Just trust me and pose,” she hoisted him up regardless of protests and started repositioning his arms and orientation. “Good, now, just look smug,” she commanded once she’d finished bending his arm to his side like it was on his hip while holding the other extended out.  
Bill quirked his brow as she pulled out her phone and switched to the camera setting. “No, I need you to look smug and off to the side. Like this,” she mimicked his pose while putting on the smuggest expression her face could muster towards her extended hand. Bill sighed but complied as best he could after a moment. She took a few snapshots with a wicked grin on her face.  
“Are we done?”  
“Nope! Now, when I say, light your hand on fire. You remember how to do that right?”  
“Yeeees,” the triangle responded slowly, as if answering the question with one of his own.  
“Great! Now,” she held up the phone again. Bill resumed his posture, floating height and smug expression. Mabel held up three fingers, then two… one… thumbs up. Bill concentrated and his hand ignited into blue flames on cue. Mabel gave the OK signal and the flames died.  
“Now, you gonna tell me what all this was about, or can I get back to my game? I was just about to fight Discord.  
“Give me a few minutes,” Mabel replied without looking up from her phone, tongue poked out to the side as she shuffled away. Bill rolled his eye and dropped back to the couch to resume the game.  
Five minutes later, Mabel came rushing into the room again and shoved the phone at Bill. He yelped and covered his eye to protect it.  
“Look look look! I told you this was the best idea!” She could barely stifle her giggles enough to hold the phone steady. Bill swiped it from her to watch the looped video on it. It was the one she’d taken of him minutes before. But now, a large, single lens sunglasses dropped from the top of the screen and covered his eye just as his hand ignited. At the bottom in bold text read “DEAL WITH IT”. He watched it loop a half dozen more times. Each made his brow scrunch harder while Mabel looked fit to burst.  
“I don't get it,” he finally said, giving the phone back to her.  
Her pout was short lived as Dipper came into the room. “Hey Mabes, Bill in he- oh, hey! How long you been…” He trailed off as Mabel shoved the phone and GIF in his face.  
Dipper took the phone and watched it loop several times. Bill shrugged as the man glanced at him. Mabel beamed brighter than the sun when Dipper finally facepalmed.  
“Do you like it? Tell me you get it. It’s awesome right?”  
Dipper held up a finger to her and put the phone to his ear. He nodded and ‘hmmed’ twice before handing the phone back to her. “2010 called, they want their meme back,” Dipper stated with a sardonic grin.  
“Oh contrare. With this gem, I’ll give the golden oldies new life!” Mabel shouted and ran out of the room, presumably to show everyone else in the house and ruin their day.  
“I think that gave me cancer.”  
“Seriously, someone gonna tell me what all that was about?”  
“Trust me when I say, somethings are better left unexplained.” Dipper plopped down on the couch next to Bill. The triangle drifted up so Dipper could lay out. Once he settled, Bill drifted back down to make Dipper’s stomach his new pillow.  
“I’m gonna kick Discord’s butt,” he said as he unpaused the game.  
“Good luck, he was a bi—tanical…”  
“Nice save,” Bill commented as he button mashed the X, launching a battery of arrows at a six-faced monster.


	20. Post Nanowrimo Slump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's December Y'all! Thanks to Nanowrimo, I have three chapters drafted and ready for editing. That will take us to the end of Act 1 (I had to split one chapter into two because it grew too long.) I've also made headway on what all Act two will be like and started drafting Act 2 Chapter 1. So, please look forward to that.  
> In the meantime, have some of my Bill's Pet comic!

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chocochip cookies to whoever can figure out what pet ownership behaviors I'm spoofing for Bill owning Dipper like he's an adorable pet.


	21. The Invention of Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy a collaborative effort between my friend and me on an early scene from this fic. -The nice looking art is hers, mine is the thick ugly scenery lines from a busted Wacom tablet, but I did what I could.-


	22. Pie Day 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pi Day everyone! Have a picture of Bill as pie slices I drew a couple years back!


	23. SOON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I need about another week to finish polishing the next chapter. Since it's basically the season finale of Act 1 I want to make sure it's as perfect as possible. Thank you for your patience!   
> In the meantime, to thank you for stopping by, here's some more Bill's Pet comic!

 


	24. Adventures in Triangleland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short story my best friend, Brandy, sent my way a while ago. I hope you find it as amusing as I did!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I wouldn't leave you without something fun to read in-between full chapter updates!

Adventures of a triangular statue:

Triangle: ....Sooo..... today I have guard duty at the front gate. An honorable position! I shall serve my king well! *makes customary salute that one should do when referring to the king -which looks suspiciously like a handshake-* Oh, what's this? A visitor?!  "Halt state your business!" *holds hand out to stop the lady- in handshake gesture-*

Visitor: "I am Princess Tiara. I am here to offer myself as a bride for his royalness."

Triangle... no, Sir Triangle: Something's not right here, she has no escort. What princess travels alone, these are dangerous times! "Very well Princess, but I must ask, where are your guards?"

Princess: "Well I- ohhhhh" she trips and falls at sir triangle's feet.

Sir Triangle: "Princess!?" *offers hand to assist the lady up* GASP! What's this!?

The princess was digging the ground at the noble Sir Triangle's feet, furiously burying a bomb- bum Bum BUUUMMM

Sir Triangle: "You are no princess! You are an assassin! YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS!!!!"

The fake-princess turned tail and fled.

But suddenly Sir Triangle reaches out an arm.

The ever faithful Lord Falcon, his trusty friend, lands on his outstretched arm. "My friend! Go forth and make that felon feel the wrath of JUSTICE!"

Lord Falcon: Unleashes a glorious cry as he swoops into action!

-meanwhile in reality-

*statue sitting quietly in the forest. After a moment, a squirrel hops over and buries a nut at the statue's feet then dashes away. Shortly after a little American Dipper bird floats down and hops around on the statue's arm*

*statue internally sighs at his own boredom*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience, patronage, and participation! I love reading your comments and seeing that my story is well received. Keeps me extra motivated.
> 
> You're all in for a treat. Brandy agreed to write up more short stories of Bill's time as a statue to post as amazing and super appreciated buffers while I work Act 2. I actually finished drafting the prologue for Act 2 already so hopefully that will be ready to post soon! 
> 
> P.S. I love fanfics of fanfics -fanception- So, if you too have extras for my fic like this story or fanart you'd like me to see and/or post here, let me know and we'll connect on a more private platform to discuss details!
> 
> Love you all! BYE!


	25. Little Dipper Big Dipper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy early Fourth of July for my USA residents who celebrate it!  
> My lovely friend Brandy has gifted us with another Bill Statue vinette! If you ask nicely, she might write us some more.

In a small picturesque clearing in the midst of a large forest, nature and all its local inhabitants stood quietly at attention. The focus of all the nearby creatures was on a triangular statue that had crashed to the ground moments before. Lush green grass pricked up around its base and warm sunlight dappled across its surface. If not for its it's odd shape and abrupt appearance the statue’s stone grey color would have looked natural in this setting. 

The statue however was unaware of any of that.

At first, he hadn’t even noticed something could possibly be wrong. Sure, he couldn’t feel anything, but there wasn’t anything that indicated he  _ should _ be able to feel. He couldn’t see, but it wasn’t the darkness of closing your eyes. He couldn’t recall feeling or seeing, so he didn’t know to miss it. It was only when the nature around him started making noise again that the sense of wrongness settled in. He could hear. He didn’t have the opportunity to question this however as his mind faded out and nature’s ambiance became meaningless white noise.

The next time he became aware of the nature around him it came in the form of a very rude, loud, and unwelcome twittering from what was likely a small bird. To be fair, the problem was less the tune the bird had favored and more that it seemed to be physically inside of his head with the volume. Loud. That it almost seemed to echo in his mind didn’t help. He had no way of knowing the tiny gray bird had been hopping around the rim of his hat and bending down to singing its notes directly into his face. The bird fled when the grass at the statue's base suddenly shifted, wilting. The limp grass at his base shriveled and browned as the statue’s mind faded out.

There was no sense of time. Every time he woke up he couldn't say if it had been seconds or years. However, while awake, he did discover some things. He knew things. Facts. Like the fact that, based on the bird’s call, the bird that occasionally came by to sing obnoxiously in his face was an American Dipper. Then there was the fact that its presence meant that he was both likely on the west coast of the planet Earth’s North America and that there should also be fresh water nearby. The bird itself was relatively rare. Their species was in decline. He also found he could recognize the call of the specific one that would come to harass him even from other birds of the same kind. The most important fact though was that their usual lifespan was five years and this bird was already an adult. It likely only had three to four years left at best. Eventually the bird would  _ have _ to stop singing.

Said bird, unaware that the statue was counting down the estimated time it had left to live, sang happily as it took shelter from a gentle shower under the rim of the statue's hat. The grass around the statue was a ring of brown now well past the point that a bit of water could restore. 

At some point, it happened. 

He didn’t realize it at first, after all, he simply wasn’t aware most of the time. Even when he was aware, the bird wasn’t always around. In one of his conscious moments though, he suddenly realized the bird had not returned for at least quite a good number of his lucid moments. If it died or simply left, he had no way of knowing. Perhaps nature, in the form of some hungry predator, ended the little bird. The American Dipper does migrate, but he couldn’t exactly tell the time of year. He couldn’t exactly say he felt bad the bird was gone and yet somehow, now that he realized it was, the tiny clearing felt a little more empty.

There was nothing to do. 

He knew things, he reviewed the things he knew, and wondered about things he didn’t. Like, why in the world wasn’t he able to do things? Most creatures with consciousness had bodies so they could interact with the world. Did he have a body? If he did he should have been able to feel it and move it. Perhaps he was an object? But what object would be able to spontaneously gain a mind in this dimension? His thoughts continued to trail listlessly in this way. He wasn’t really bothered by the nature of his existence, but thinking was at least something he could do.

Clink.

The meandering line of thought was suddenly broken by the intruding sound. It echoed in the statue’s mind in such a way that it made him recall the little dipper bird. He waited for a follow up. Anything to explain the out of place disturbance. He hadn’t needed to wait long. First, a quiet shuffling. Something moving in some nearby shrubbery? He began to dismiss the incident. Probably a squirrel. But, a short string of blurted curses made that theory near impossible. Unless perhaps someone’s been teaching the local wildlife to curse? Laughter bubbled up after the choice vulgarity. It was a touch too loud and nearly erring on the edge of hysteria.

“Here I was, beginning to think I’d never see you again.”

For some reason that he couldn’t explain, it felt like the bird was back.  
  


\----

Words. Language. The sound was addictive with articulations that bore meaning. Intelligence and not just the mindless noise making of animals. Not that one would know that based on today's topic. In a small clearing of dead grass, a teenager sat with a strange triangular statue as his captive audience. 

“I just don’t know what to do.” The teen’s voice echoed in the emptiness that was the statue’s only perception of reality. “I mean, the  _ responsible  _ thing to  **do** would be nothing. Which is stupid.” The word ‘responsible’ was dragged out in such a way he could almost see the eye roll that had to go with it. “But why do I have to be the responsible one all the time?”

He imagined nodding with empty sympathy at the kid’s whining tone. Then he wondered what he’d be nodding with. The kid never exactly sat down and waxed poetic on his appearance. He felt he should file a complaint. Only the regular sounds of nature left him confident that he was in some sort of wooded area. The lack of other human passerbys suggested is was at least deep enough in nature to probably be called a forest. It was rather insensitive of the kid not to expand on the details though. Not that the statue actually cared, but ever since the kid started dumping his emotions out on the statue the statue had been pretending to return the favor.

“It would be one thing if this was the only thing but it’s not.” The teen lamented, “The school won’t do anything because of his parents. My parents just give me the speech about being the bigger person. Ma-” The statue took note of the kid’s hesitance, but without the visual cues he couldn’t decide where the sudden reluctance came from. The teen continued shortly anyway. “ My sister… she… I mean I can’t tell her about this. She’d march right up to the jerk and set him straight and… that would just...”

Still playing with the sympathy route the statue imagined patting him on the shoulder as he heaved a sigh.

“It just wouldn’t end well. I mean, you remember the mayo incident right?”

The statue had noted two things since the human started visiting. The amount of times he was awake had increased in general and the length of time he was awake increased only when the human was visiting. As a bonus, he also had a better grip on time as the kid would occasionally comment on how long it had been or reference past conversations.

“And she didn’t even have the whole story then.” 

The statue lost interest in being sympathetic. This time he imagined glaring at the brat. ‘You do realize this wouldn’t be an issue if you just stayed out here and theorized like you used to!’ He hurumphed at the ignorant flesh bag and continued talking over the teen as he continued complaining. ‘It would clearly benefit us both, but nooooo! You just keep going back to the social constructs of society. Letting the meatbag that’s clearly a result of inbreeding condemn you to being a social pariah. You’re smarter than that!’ The statue swapped moods again.

“-but that’s enough of that. I have to get back.” The teen sighed completing whatever statement the statue had been ignoring. There was another sigh and the silence dragged on without the telltale crunch that indicated he was being left behind again. 

“Do you …” The pesky silence continued again.

‘I don’t know, do you?’ he replied to the human with faux irritability.

“Do you think you’ll ever…recover... come back from  _ this _ ? I mean, you’re a statue now. Stone. There’s nothing alive in there right?” The statue didn’t have time to overanalyze and guess at the hesitance and wobble in the teen’s tone. 

In that moment the statue hadn’t needed to pretend to be surprised. He wanted to ask, demand clarification. ‘What do you mean  **_now_ ** ? What do you mean  **_alive_ ** ?!’  Even if he had the ability to ask it all welled up too quickly, overflowed, and he was out cold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this extra story. :)  
> I'm planning to post an actual chapter by the beginning of next month and hopefully resume our regular schedule afterward. Please look forward to the coming installments and as always, if you like the story, leave a comment or kudos to show your love and help others find it. Thank you for your time. I love you all!


	26. Tokyo In Tulsa Buffer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since Tokyo In Tulsa Convention is this weekend, I wanted to share a relevant cosplay from last year. I'm dressed as Bill Cipher and my best friend, housemate, and editor is Will Cipher!
> 
> I love to tell this story. I learned to thread my sewing machine and make four modified from the store-bought pattern costumes in a single year! Then, at Tokyo In Tulsa 2017, my friend and I entered the Hall Contest where they take pics and judges decide who represents their costume and characters best. We were sitting in an overflow room watching the main costume contest. When they were announcing the 1-3 place winners for the Hall Contest they said, "And in 2nd Place, Jess and Brandon as Bill and Will Cipher!" We clapped like "YAY! Cool for them! ...........THEM IS US!!" The room we were in erupted into applause as they also realized them is us as we sprinted out of there up to the show room. People cheered again as we ran breathlessly onto the stage. Then we awkwardly stood on stage in front of the huge crowd while the rest of the awards were handed out. It was my best experience at a con ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning to dress and Bill again on Sunday -that costume has seen a lot of action this year so I'm show-casing other costumes I've made for this con. I'll be dressing as my own original character on Friday and then Saturday I'm dressing as Star Butterfly from Star vs the Forces of Evil. I've been working so hard on this costume, it's ridiculous!  
> But if you're at TNT this year, look for me! I'd love to meet some of my readers in person! I respond to Apples, Jess, Creslix, AXOLOTL, or whoever I'm dressed as that day :D Hope to see you there!


End file.
